Becoming Legend
by DC101
Summary: Dante, infamous son of Teyrn Cousland was the last person anyone expected to achieve greatness. But when the fate of all Thedas fell upon his shoulders; the lazy, womanising noble lord became something nobody could have expected, he became a Legend. R&R.
1. Chapter 1 Imperfect Origin Part 1

Chapter 1

Imperfect Origin

1

At last the pain had stopped. Darkness began to close in. It had been so many months of nothing but pain and loss. No, he knew that wasn't strictly true; there had been good times in spite of all he had been through. He had grown to know true friendship, honour and even love in his time with the Grey Wardens but all that was gone now, all of it that truly mattered at least, and all he was left with was the hurt that he could not get to stop. He had never known pain such as this, and if death would bring an end then he welcomed it.

He had believed himself to be strong, that being in the wardens had made him strong. He had faced hundreds, literally thousands of foes and bested them all and yet he had no defence for what he had found on top of Fort Drakon, at the end of his quest. So there he lay, at the top of the tallest tower in all of Denerim, capital city of Fereldan, his home, and he knew he was dying.

How had he wound up here? What had set him on this path? What if he had done things differently? He had so many questions. He knew that there was no point dwelling on them now, not here, at what would probably turn out to be the end of his life, but he couldn't help but think about the origin of his adventure. Perhaps it would have been better if Duncan had not come to Highever and saved his life.

He let out a final wheezing breath as his spirit left his body and travelled to the fade, whether it would return or not he did not know, and truly he did not care. He slipped into the land of spirits and demons, and his tale was unveiled before him.

2

Duncan, commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, sat in front of his campfire deep in thought. He had a decision to make and he did not intend to make the wrong one, many lives could rest on what action he took next.

One of Duncan's duties as commander of the Gray Wardens was to locate and recruit promising new members for the order. It was this duty that occupied his mind now. Duncan, in more peaceful times, took a very informal approach to recruitment, travelling Fereldan, meeting the people and selecting any exceptional individual that caught his eye; but with the way things were shaping up in the south Duncan new that he would have chance to recruit only one more potential Warden before what would almost certainly be a vital battle in the fight to stop the darkspawn.

In his hands Duncan held a sheet of parchment, on it he had a list of locations and a few names he had scribbled down over the course of the last couple of days, he sat reading them now.

_The Dalish elves _he thought to himself _always a promising recruit to be found amongst them. _Duncan knew the Dalish often raised gifted rogues and even the occasional mage, either one would be a great help against the horde of darkspawn. There was a problem however; because of the Dalish's often hostile relationship with humans; their clans were always on the move. While Duncan was confident in his tracking ability he knew that time was of the essence, and he had no guarantee that he could find them before he was called to the battle. _Perhaps the city elves then? _Duncan considered the idea, before deciding against it. The elves of Denerim were being increasingly repressed in recent times, banned from carrying swords or bows, so it would be possible, yet highly unlikely to find a recruit with any kind of combat training, something that would be a necessity in the fight to come.

Duncan glanced down at his list again, first name he laid his eyes upon was 'Ser Gilmore', who could be found in Highever. Duncan remembered this young man, he had put on quite a good performance at the Teyrn's summer games, ranking second in the duelling tournament. _The boy has decent skills _Duncan thought _but he's missing something. He lacks a certain passion, the kind of ferocity that moulds a truly great Grey Warden. He would suffice if there were no other option, he is a safe bet, and the Wardens could always use a strong sword arm. But no, if I can only find one recruit he must be a truly remarkable one._

_Perhaps there is something to be found in the kingdom of dwarves, many a great warrior has been found beneath the stone. _Duncan considered visiting the nobles of Orzammar, but he knew that it would be difficult to tempt any individual from a life of luxury and into an order that would lead them to an early death, he couldn't take the risk of leaving empty handed. Maybe he could pay a visit to Dust town, and seek out a recruit among the Casteless who live there, but most of them were criminals; and while Duncan had no issue with recruiting criminals into the order, some of the greatest Wardens of all time had come from less than ideal origins after all, the Casteless did not have a reputation for speaking freely to outsiders. It would take time to gain their trust even for a well-respected Warden such as Duncan, and time was one thing he did not have.

_The circle tower then, _he thought to himself, _any mage would be an incredible asset against the darkspawn. But with things the way they are there is no guarantee that Knight-Commander Greagoir would even allow me to take one of the mages from under his watch; and while I cannot go to Ostagar empty-handed, I do not want a conflict with the templars on top of everything else. Still, it seems to be the best option I have, _Duncan thought as he rolled up the parchment and put it into his knapsack. He looked to the East, it would not be long till dawn's first light crept over the horizon. He had to move quickly. He stood and kicked dirt onto his campfire, extinguishing the flames. He collected his belongings and began walking west towards the circle tower. _Wait _something in the back of his mind called out to him. _There is another. In Highever, the Teyrn's son!_ Duncan remembered the lad well, he had some exceptional fighting skill but the Duncan knew there was more to the boy than that, if the rumours Duncan had heard were true the Teyrn's second son had a knack for getting into trouble. He was wild and rough around the edges yet he had fire. He had that certain something, that indefinable attribute that separates a good Warden from a great Warden.

There would be no guarantee that the Teyrn would allow his son to join the order. Quite the opposite in fact, he had met Bryce Cousland and knew of the love he had for his children. Duncan was almost certain that he would be against the idea. Yet it might be worth the risk, the worst-case scenario he would leave with only Ser Gilmour, a reasonable recruit in himself. But if things went well then he would leave with two recruits instead of one, he thought it might be worth the gamble. So Duncan turned his attention north and began walking.

Taking the first steps of a journey that would change the world.

3

Dante Cousland, the second son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland, awoke in his bed chamber. He sat up, using one hand to brush his long black hair from his eyes. He looked around the room, blinking in the light, and upon seeing the young Elven woman dressing herself; he remembered the night before with fondness.

The girl was one of the house servants, new to the job, if he was not mistaken. He did not pretend to know all of his father's servants by name, but one as attractive as she was would not have been able to avoid his attention for long. She stood there with her back to him, buttoning her blouse, and naked from the waist down. 'You're leaving already?' he asked her, propping himself up on his elbow and running his eyes up and down her form.

'You are awake my lord, and before noon, your father would be shocked.' she turned her head and smiled at him.

'I have no problem getting out of bed, as long as there is something to get out of bed for' he told her as he pulled back the sheets and stood up. The stone of the floor was cold on his feet, a refreshing change from the clinging heat of a thick bear skin blanket, especially when shared with another body. He considered taking a sheet to wrap around his waist, but decided against it, modesty had never been something he had worried about. 'Will you not stay a while?' he asked walking towards her.

'I have much work to do my lord and we have wasted much of the morning already.'

'Wasted? Do I really mean so little to you?' He grabbed her arm gently yet firmly and turned her around, placing one hand on her buttocks he pulled her towards him, pressing their bodies against each other.

'You are only interested in one thing, my lord. I have heard much about you.'

So, apparently this girl, although new, had already heard the rumours. He was hardly surprised, there were not many people in Highever who had not heard the stories about the Teyrn's womanising youngest son, and he knew how the servants liked to gossip. He did not mind the tales they told of him, why should he? It was all true.

Dante knew that he could not be described as an ideal heir to his father's legacy, but that was much more his elder brother Fergus's destiny than his own anyway. His brother was much more suited to the job that he. Fergus was calm, logical, diplomatic, he had a good relationship with the local people as well as other Fereldan nobles. Whereas Dante was quick to anger, passionate, easily bored and while his countrymen enjoyed discussing his exploits he had an idea that they wouldn't think it was quite as amusing if he was in charge of their livelihoods. Dante wondered if he would even take the position if he was offered it, he liked the idea of power and wealth, but he had a craving for adventure, one that he would not be able to satisfy from a position in government.

He decided to play along with the girl. Feigning surprise, his jaw dropped. 'I am shocked. I realise I have a reputation around the castle but I thought we truly shared something intimate last night. It was a beautiful thing, more than just physical, even more than emotional, you could say it was a spiritual experience. There was a connection between us on a deeper level than I have ever felt before. A unique experience, I would have said that it is too early to claim love, but who knows?'

'Very well my Lord, I will stay…' she looked into his eyes.

'Excellent.'

'If you can tell me my name.'

He paused, looking back at her and considering. 'Fair enough then' he said as he threw himself back on to the bed. 'Oh and would you mind shutting the door on your way out?' He reached over to his bedside table where there stood a clay pot, he lifted it up to his ear and shook it, hearing the liquid moving inside he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply, it was a particularly delicious vintage even for Orlesian wine which was always quite delicious.

He set the pot back on the table and rested his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes. He heard he door open and close behind her, she had gone. Thinking of his exploits from the night before, he smiled to himself and relaxed, he was just about to fall asleep again when there came a knock at the door. Dante sighed, 'Yes?'

'Pardon the interruption my lord, it is Ser Gilmour, your father has requested your presence in the main hall.'

'Tell my father I will see him before he rides out tonight, there is no rush.' He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillows.

'With all due respect sir, he said it was urgent, he also told me not to return until I was sure that you were up and dressed.'

'Fine, fine' Dante grumbled, sliding again from his comfortable bed. He walked over to the wardrobe and took out some light leather armour that he liked to wear when wandering around the castle. 'All right' he said swinging open the door to look at Ser Gilmour, 'as you can see I am up and I am dressed. You can tell my father that you have done your job and I shall see him shortly.'

'Thank you, my lord' Ser Gilmour gave a brief salute and turned away, marching down the hall, off to conduct some other business.

Dante liked Ser Gilmour, a fact that he himself found strange, considering that the two men were almost polar opposites of each other. In Dante's opinion he could stand to cut loose a little bit more, everything was always about work and duty with him. Dante walked over to the wall on which he displayed many different weapons he had collected over the years. He picked a standard sword and shield and slung them over his back. Dante moved back to the bedside table and took another swig of the Orlesian wine, before leaving his room to speak to his father.

4

It was only a short walk between Dante's bed chamber and the main hall in which his father waited. He opened the door and looked inside. The castles' main hall was a huge room, with thick grey stone walls that supported its high ceiling, though he remembered it looking even bigger to him when he was a child. As a boy he had spent many hours in here, hiding from his mother when he had misbehaved, or the castles priestess, Mother Mallol, when it was time one of her sermons, which to this day he still could not abide.

He could see his father, staring into the large fire that was blazing at one side of the hall, filling the room with heat. _He looks worried_. Dante thought to himself _perhaps something has gone awry with the battle plans._ Behind his father stood a second man, whom Dante recognised immediately as Arl Howe, one of his father's oldest friends.

His father turned to look at Howe, 'It is not a serious problem' he said to his friend 'I'll send my eldest of with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days.'

'True' Howe replied 'but we had less grey in our hair then; and we fought Orlesians, not monsters'

'At least the smell will be the same' the Teyrn laughed

Dante approached his father, there were several of Howe's guards in the room. One of the guards, clearly higher ranked than the rest, stared at him as he crossed the room. Dante met his gaze, the two men tried to stare each other down, but neither would budge, Dante felt his anger growing, he was just about to ask the man, a knight judging by his armour, if he had some kind of problem when is father turned his head, seeing his son for the first time. 'I'm sorry pup; I didn't see you there. Howe you remember my youngest son of course?'

'I see he's grown into a fine young man. Please to see you again, lad.' Dante looked away from the knight, and brought his attention to Arl Howe, he would have time for the knight later.

'and you, Arl Howe' Dante replied with a nod of the head. Dante had always liked Arl Howe, he seemed like the kind of man who didn't wait for what he wanted, the kind of decisive man that Dante believe himself to be.

'My daughter Delilah asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time.'

'Are you sure that's wise Howe?' Bryce said with a laugh, 'you have no doubt heard stories of my roguish lad'

'you may just be right, my old friend.' Howe looked to Dante 'unless you are finally ready to take a wife and settle down?'

'As lovely as your Delilah is, Arl Howe, I have no interest in an arranged marriage'

'See, what I contend with, Howe? You can't tell my fierce boy anything these days, Maker bless his heart.'

'A temperament to match his fighting skill. Well done, your Lordship.' They shared another laugh before Bryce's face turned serious.

'At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are away, I leaving you in charge of the castle.' _Pup, I am almost a full foot taller than my father, stronger than him, faster, better with swords and women both; and __**still **__he calls me 'pup'._

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, there were more pressing matters to attend to. 'I still don't see why I can't go into battle with you and Fergus.'

'I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war.'

'No disrespect, father, but I am twice the fighter that Fergus is. If anyone should stay behind it should be him.'

'It is not all about who can swing a sword the best, pup, you are too young and too brash. I need a level head fighting next to me. Someone I can depend on.'

'You can depend on me!'

'I think you have proven that I cannot.'

'Will you never let that go?' Dante could feel himself getting angry, and he was pretty sure his father could see it as well.

'This is a discussion for another time, pup. Anyway, there is someone I want you to meet.' His father skilfully changed the subject. _Always the diplomat._ Bryce turned to one of the servants, 'please show Duncan in.'

The servant, whom Dante recognised as the beautiful young elf who had shared his bed night before, turned and opened the small door on the Northern side of the hall and in stepped a tall bearded man whom Dante had never met before. The man must have been in his 50s, but you would not have been able to tell by the way he moved, he stepped with the grace of a much younger man and it was obvious that he had extensive combat training. He was wearing armour that Dante guessed had been custom made for him, and not cheaply either.

The man walked over and stopped at Bryce's side. He bowed, 'It is an honour to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland.' Dante looked at Arl Howe, who was visibly shaken for some reason. _Perhaps they have met before, and did not part on good terms. It is easy to see why someone would be afraid of a man such as this, he is clearly a formidable warrior. _No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Arl Howe had composed himself. 'Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present.'

'Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?'

'Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… At a disadvantage.' Arl Howe said sincerely.

'We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true. Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?'

Brother Aldous, Dante's tutor, had indeed told him many stories of the fabled Grey Wardens and their exploits. 'Indeed father, they defeated the darkspawn long ago.'

Duncan turned to him 'Not permanently, I fear.'

'Duncan is looking for recruits before joining the army and his fellow Grey Wardens in the South. I believe he has got his eye on Sir Gilmour.'

'If I might be so bold' Duncan responded 'I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate for recruitment.'

Bryce was perturbed by this 'An… an honour though that might be, this is one of my sons are talking about.'

'I don't know father. Being a legendary hero sounds like something I might be interested in.'

'I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?' he looked at the Warden fearfully.

'Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing issue.'

Bryce relax, 'Excellent, now pup; Duncan, Arl Howe and I have much to discuss. Be a good lad and find Fergus, tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar tonight, ahead of Howe and I. We will meet with him there.'

'Very well father' Dante looked to Duncan, 'perhaps you and I could discuss my recruitment once father has left?'

'Pup, now is not the time for this, do as I have asked.'

'Fine, as you wish.' Dante turned and left the hall.

5

Speaking to his father had left Dante more than a little angry. _He treats me like a child. Yes, I have made mistakes, I admit to them all, but how am I to accomplish anything when he will not trust me to leave the castle grounds? Not only will he not let me fight by his side but he will not let me go my own way to find my own fame and glory. One stupid mistake, I let my emotions get the better of me __**once**__, and I am forever condemned to a life of constant belittlement ._

It was true, Bryce was unwilling to let his youngest son out from under his eye, or from under the eyes of his castle guards. Dante had a reputation as a troublemaker, he was black sheep of the Cousland family. Completely unlike his elder brother who strived to earn a good reputation with the Fereldan nobles. It was the safest thing for the family and the future of the Cousland line to keep Dante out of trouble and out of the public eye.

Upon leaving the hall Dante began walking back towards the bed chambers where he would likely find his brother and deliver his father's message. 'My Lord!' Dante to see Ser Gilmour running up behind him. 'There you are my Lord! Your mother told me that the Teyrn had summoned you, so I did not want to interrupt.'

'What is it you want, Ser Gilmour?'

'I fear your hound has kitchens in uproar once again,' he spoke while trying to catch breath 'Nan is threatening to leave.'

'Then why have you not gotten the dog yourself?'

'You know these mabari war hounds. They listen only to their master; anyone else risks having an arm bitten off.'

'Well I do not have time for this right now, Ser Gilmour.'

'Your mother insists you take care of this now, your quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Still, that intelligence means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself. At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?'

Dante let out a sigh 'Very well.'

The two men began walking to the kitchen. When Dante spotted his mother and three guests talking amongst themselves. As Dante approached the recognised one of them as Lady Landra one of his mother's friends. A woman with a taste for old Orlesian wine and young Fereldan men if he remembered correctly. Another one of the guests he recognised as Diarren, Lady Landra's son. He had fought against Diarren in a few of his Father's tournaments. He was a nice enough individual, yet has no skill for swordplay; it had taken Dante only a few seconds to disarm and force Diarren to submit. The third guest Dante did not know, yet he planned to rectify that shortly. She was a young Elven girl with long blonde hair, she had a pretty face and a nice figure, exactly the kind of girl he enjoyed spending his evenings with.

As the two men approached group Dante heard his mother telling an old anecdote, about a necklace her husband had given her from Orlais. She turned to them they got close. 'Ah, here is my son, along with Ser Gilmour. Tell me, Ser Gilmour, has my pup collared that dog yet?' she asked.

'Not just yet, your ladyship.'

'See that it gets done, would you?'

'As your ladyship commands.'

Teyrna Eleanor turned to look at her youngest son. 'With any luck, I'll be able to feed my guests before end of next week. Darling, you remember Lady Landra?'

'I think we last met at your mothers spring salon.' Landra said, extending her hand.

'Of course, how could I forget someone as lovely as you. It is good to see you again, my lady.' Dante said reaching out and kissing her hand, he looked up at her and smiled, that smile that had lured so many women into his arms, but he knew that it had many uses.

Landra giggled, 'You're too kind, dear boy. Didn't I spend half the salon shamelessly flirting with you?'

'Right in front of your family, too' Diarren said with a laugh.

'You remember my son, Diarren? I believe you two sparred in the last tourney.'

'..and you beat me handily, as I recall' Diarren jumped in 'Its good to see you again, my lord.'

'And you, Diarren.' Dante replied, personably enough but his eyes had been drawn to the young woman stood just behind him, she met his eyes for a moment before looking to the ground shyly.

'And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona.' Landra introduced, but Iona continued to look at the ground. 'Do say something, dear.' Lady Landra said with a nudge.

'It is a great honour, my lord. I have heard many wonderful things about you.' Iona said in a very small voice, only once briefly looking up at him.

'Don't look now, Eleanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad.'

'Lady Landra!' Iona blurted, clearly mortified by her Lady's claim.

'Hush, Landra. You will turn the poor thing scarlet.' the Teyrna tried to interject.

'Perhaps we should speak alone, a little later, Iona?' Dante said in his kindest voice. Now girl did look up.

'As it…' She hesitated, 'Pleases you, my lord.'

The group exchanged some more pleasantries before Dante and Ser Gilmour made their excuses and left for the kitchen.

The pair had made it halfway to the kitchen when Ser Gilmour turned to his friend, 'How do you do that?'

'Do what?'

'Speak to women so easily?'

Dante was about to say that it wasn't easy, that he had honed his skills over many years, but that wasn't the truth. The truth was it had always been easy for him. Ever since he could remember he had a natural charm that made women fall to their knees before him, often literally. It didn't hurt that he had inherited his father's good looks, he was tall and slim, he had a chiselled jaw, high cheek bones, long black hair he often tied loosely into a ponytail. He kept clean shaven for the majority of time which made him look sophisticated and debonair, and he had large dark eyes which turned women into putty in his hands. But it was more than just good looks, he had confidence. The more women he had the more his confidence grew, and the more he is confidence grew the more women he had.

There were downsides however, his good looks and charm, while making extremely popular with farmers daughters and nobles daughters equally, made him extremely unpopular with their fathers. More than once he had gotten himself and his family into trouble, but it was normally solved quickly and effectively by his father. Every time, except once, when he had nearly brought down his entire family. One bad choice and he had to spend five years away from his home, travelling the Free Marches because it was too dangerous to stay in Fereldan. This was why his family didn't trust him, why they kept him inside and out of trouble. In truth he felt bad about the problems he had brought them, but they had to start trusting him sooner or later, didn't they?

Finally he turned to Ser Gilmour, 'it's about taking control, my friend, women long for a man who takes command. Let them know that you're in charge and they'll turn to jelly in your hands.'

'You make sound so simple.'

'That's because it is simple.'

The two men drew close to the kitchen, they could hear a great deal of barking and screaming coming from within, mixed with the crash of plates hitting the ground.

'Let's get this over with' Dante said as they entered.

Inside they found Nan and the two Elven kitchen servants stood in a group around the larder door.

'What's the problem?' Dante asked, already knowing the problem.

'You! That bloody dog of yours has gotten into the larder again!' Nan yelled at him 'That beast should be put down!'

'Calm down Nan, I'll go get him.' Dante said, trying to hold back a smile.

Dante and Ser Gilmour entered the larder and sure enough; there was Dante's mabari war hound, Dane. The dog was pacing up and down the length of the small room, nose to the ground. Upon heating his master's entry the dog turned and looked at him, wagging his tale.

'Come on boy, you know you shouldn't be in here.' Dante tried to beckon the dog to his side but Dane wouldn't budge; instead he barked lay on the ground, looking at something.

'Is everything alright?' Ser Gilmour asked.

Dante hesitated, looking at his pet, 'I'm not sure, I think he's trying to tell me something.' No sooner had the words left his lips than a wave of giant rats came pouring out from a large pile of crates in one corner of the room, they made a break for the open door leading into the kitchen.

'Shut the door!' Dante yelled at Ser Gilmour, who did as he was commanded. Dane was the first to tear into the group of rats, picking them up in his mouth and shaking them until their speaks halted. Dante and Gilmour soon joined in, using their swords as well as their boots to quash the vermin. It only took a few minutes until all of the rats were dead.

Ser Gilmour walked over to the body of a particularly large rat and turned it over with his boot. 'Giant rats? It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder after all.'

Dane gave a bark to show he agreed with Ser Gilmour.

'Yes well, it certainly looks that way, doesn't it?' Dante said, giving Dane a congratulatory scratch on the head. Ser Gilmour bent down and looked at the rat more closely.

'These are rats from the Korcari Wilds.'

'This far north?'

'Apparently so. Best not to tell Nan, she's upset enough as it is. I'll send someone to clean up the mess. But seeing as you've got your mabari well in hand, I'll be on my way. I am to prepare for the arrival of more of the Arl's men.'

The three of them left the larder. Ser Gilmour gave Dante another quick bow and left the kitchen. 'There he is!' Nan yelled marching towards them 'As brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!'

'Yes, well, what can you do?' Dante said nonchalantly.

'Look at him, now. Snuck into my larder once again and makes off like a free thief, he does.'

That was when one of the servants opened the door to the larder and saw the carnage left there.

'Mistress! There are rats in the larder! Big ones!' she cried.

'It looks like the dog killed them.' The second servant interjected.

Nan looked down at the dog 'I bet that dog lead those rats in there to begin with.'

'Yes well, if there is nothing else Nan, I have other duties to attend to.' Dante turned and left the kitchen, Dane right behind him.


	2. Chapter 1  Imperfect Origin  Part 2

6

Dante looked up at the sun, it was getting well into the afternoon and he still had much to do. _If I don't hurry, Fergus will have left before I get a chance to deliver father's message. _Dante began to make his way to the family bedchambers, but he hesitated. He looked towards the castle study. 'Perhaps we have time for a slight detour, what do you think Dane?' The mabari barked in agreement. 'Well, I'm glad we're on the same page.' he said to his loyal hound as the pair headed for the study.

The Highever castle study contained one of the finest collections of literature in all of Fereldan. Hundreds of books, some so old that they could only be handled by Brother Aldous, who painstakingly maintained them. Many scholars from all over Thedas would have given their right arm to learn, even for a few hours, in that study; Dante, on the other hand, could not stand spending time in the room. He thought the study was stuffy, dark and boring. Upon entering the study, Dante was filled with memories of the countless hours he had spent under Brother Aldous's tutelage, hours in which he could have been outside, playing with the other children who lived in the area around Highever.

'Ah, the young Lord Cousland has decided to grace us with an appearance.' an old voice echoed around the room, Dante turned to see his old mentor, stood with three boys who were squiring in the castle.

'Aldous, not quite dead yet I see?' Dante asked with a smile.

'Don't you have some women to pester, young man? Or have you finally decided to attempt to fill that yawning chasm that is your mind?'

'If I remember correctly old sage, your lectures did lead to yawning.'

'If only your mind were as quick as your tongue.'

'I learned from the best, my friend.' Dante called out as he moved into the next room; a smaller add-on to the study, affectionately known around the castle as 'The Snug', which was often used by anyone wanting a quite place to read. Inside he found Diarren and Iona, sat at opposite sides of the room; Diarren in a large antique chair that Bryce favoured, Iona on a much more modest wooden chair. He walked toward Iona, casting a glance over at Diarren, who was totally engrossed in whatever book he was reading and hadn't even noticed Dante's entrance. _Excellent,_ Dante thought, _wouldn't want him interrupting me at work._

'Good evening Iona' he said in his most pleasant voice. The girl jumped, and looked up at him, her eyes wide in what Dante liked to think was awe.

'Good… Good evening my lord.' She stumbled as she sprang to her feet.

'Do you have a few minutes to talk?'

'Of course, my lord. Is there something specific you wish to ask me?'

'Not really, I just wish to learn a little more about you. I must admit, I have not met many Elven ladies-in-waiting.'

'Lady Landra has been very good to me, I notice that your mother does not have any ladies-in-waiting. Unusual for a woman of her stature.'

'My mother has always been very independent, she doesn't care to be fussed over, but I have to say, if she found one like you; I might encourage her.'

Iona blushed 'Thank you, you are very kind.'

'Do you have any family in Fereldan?' he asked.

'Only my daughter, sir.'

'Oh? You have a daughter?'

'Yes, my lord. Forgive me, I shouldn't have mentioned her.'

'Its quite alright. What of her father?'

'He died, some years ago now.'

'My sympathies. Are you… with anyone at the moment?'

'Oh, no, my lord. There has not been anyone since my late husband.'

'That must get quite lonely.'

'I honestly don't have much time for that sort of thing, my lord. But I do think of such things, occasionally.'

'Well…' he glanced over at Diarren again, _So engaged in a book when he shares a room with a young woman such as this? I shall never understand a man like him._ He turned his attention back to Iona. '…perhaps we could discuss that in private. Later on, maybe? In my room?'

Iona hesitated for a moment, looking down at her feet; yet Dante knew what her answer would be. She looked him in the eye.

'If I come to your room when everyone is asleep, would that be agreeable?'

'Yes,' Dante took a step closer to her. 'That would be very agreeable, but for the moment, I have duties to attend to.'

'Until tonight then.' She said to him. Dante gave the elf a sweeping bow, making her grin in spite of herself, before he turned and left the room.

7

Dante knew he couldn't procrastinate any longer, he needed to speak to Fergus; so he made for the bedchambers. He passed the guest quarters in which Lady Landra was most likely resting. He looked at Dane, 'Would it be wrong to pay her a visit at some point?' He asked his dog. Dane gave a low whine, 'Yea, you're probably right.'

He walked to Fergus's room and knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to wake Oren if he happened to be asleep. There was no reply but he could hear voices coming from within so he decided to show himself in. Inside he found his brother, Fergus, as well as Fergus's wife, Oriana, and their boy Oren. Oren sat playing on the floor. There were not many things in Dante's life that he could say he truly loved, but the boy was one of them. It still amazed Dante how fast Oren had grown. It seemed like only yesterday that Fergus had told his family that they were expecting a child, but it had been nearly three years since then. Fergus and Oriana were stood with their arms around each other and were clearly sharing an intimate moment.

'I shall miss you, my love.' Oriana whispered into her husband's ear.

'And I you, more than anything.' he replied.

'Do you mind?' Dante interrupted, breaking the mood, 'I've only just eaten and you two are nauseating me.'

'Ah, brother!' Fergus embraced his younger sibling. 'I'm sure that one day you, too, will have a woman in your life.'

'No fewer than three if you please.' Dante joked, making Fergus chuckle in spite of his wife's disapproving looks.

'I mean a real woman, not a turn in the straw.'

'Fergus!' Oriana interrupted, motioning at Oren, who sat playing with his wooden animals, completely oblivious.

'Real women are hard to find brother. It seems that all the best ones are already taken.' Dante looked up momentarily, his eyes catching Oriana's.

'I have to agree, brother.' Fergus put an arm around his wife. 'Tis a shame I will have to leave her.'

'I wish I were going with you, brother.'

'I wish you were coming too, I could use you at my side. But I have to admit, I feel better knowing you are here, watching over my family. You will look after them, wont you?'

'Of course, Fergus, as if they were my own.'

'Are… are you here for a reason, Dante, or did you merely want to wish your brother well?' Oriana interrupted.

'As a matter of fact, there is something.' Dante turned his attention to Fergus. 'Father sends a message, he wants you to take the men and leave ahead of him, tonight.'

'So it is true, the Arl's men are delayed?'

'It certainly looks that way, brother.'

'Well, then I suppose I had better get underway as soon as possible; those darkspawn aren't going to fight themselves.' Fergus said, scooping up his knapsack and slinging his shield over his back.

'I would hope you planned to say goodbye before you left, my boy.' The Cousland brothers turned to see their father walking in through the open door, followed closely by their mother.

'Look after yourself, son.' the Teyrna asked placing her hands on her son's shoulders. 'I shall pray for you every day.'

'A good shield would be more useful.' Dante muttered under his breath, earning disapproving looks from both his mother and sister-in-law.

'May the Maker bless us with victory' Fergus jumped in, 'and some ale and wenches if he's not too busy.'

'Fergus! You would say this in front of your mother?' Oriana turned her scorn to her husband.

'Wha's a wemch?' Oren joined in from his spot on the floor.

'A wench, Oren. Is a woman who serves ale in a tavern…' Bryce kneeled in front of Grandson. '… or a woman who drinks a lot of ale.' Dante burst into a fit of laughter, even Fergus, who had earned more than his fair share of his wife's displeasure for one day, had to laugh along.

'Bryce, really!' The Teyrna clouted her husband on the back of the head, earning even more laughs from her children.

'I shall miss you, mother dear.' Fergus said while wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. 'You will look after her wont you brother?'

'Mother can look after herself Fergus, always has. In fact, I would consider sending her to fight the darkspawn in your place.' Dante answered.

'She could scorn them back into the deep roads.' Fergus agreed.

'Enough, enough!' Bryce pleaded. 'It is nearly time for you to leave Fergus, and Dante, I think you should get to bed. You will have a long day tomorrow.'

'Getting sent to bed early, little brother?' Fergus mocked as the two brothers shook hands.

'I don't mind brother, I have someone waiting for me.' Dante looked over his shoulder as he walked toward his bad chamber. 'Enjoy the long march in the cold!'

8

Dante Cousland had watched his brother leave the castle grounds through his bedroom window, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever see his brother again. From what he had heard all the battles in the south had gone well so far, and Dante was confident in his brother's, and his father's for that matter, fighting skill.

_It__'s getting rather late, _Dante thought to himself, _where is that girl, what was her name? Iona. Perhaps she got nervous and changed her mind. _Just as the thought crossed his mind he heard someone moving in the corridor outside. _Of course! She doesn't know which room is mine. I'd better go and get her before she runs into Oriana, or even worse; __**Mother.**_

Dante opened his bedroom door and found the person he least expected.

'Arl Howe?'

'Oh!' The man turned around, surprised. 'I didn't mean to wake you, lad.'

'Its… its fine. What are you doing here?' Dante was perturbed.

'I was just taking a walk. I have a lot on my mind.'

'Oh? Such as?'

'Its nothing to concern yourself with lad, its just…' He paused. 'I have been presented with a opportunity, a once in a lifetime opportunity, but… some people… may get hurt. Never mind, I shouldn't be talking about it, forget I said anything.'

Dante was confused, 'Does this have something to do with the battle in the south?'

'Well, yes.'

'Its a strategic decision?'

'You could say that lad.'

Dante looked over the Arl's shoulder and saw Iona, she walked around the corner but upon seeing the two men she stopped and stepped back out of sight. _I'd better get rid of the Arl quick or she might leave, and a night with only my palm for company is the last thing I need right now._

'Arl Howe, people get hurt in war. Look at the bigger picture, and if you decide that there is more to gain than there is to lose, well, then just do it.'

'Perhaps you're right lad.'

'Listen, I have a lot to do tomorrow, you and my father are leaving and apparently I'm in charge. So if you have to pace; could you please do it somewhere that is not right outside my bedchamber?'

'Of course, lad. And… I wouldn't worry about tomorrow. Just try and get some sleep.'

'I will Arl Howe.'

Dante stepped back inside his room. He held his door open only slightly and watched the Arl walk off down the hall through the small gap between the wooden door and it's stone frame. As soon as his father's friend has disappeared from sight Dante stepped into the hall, hoping the girl hadn't lost her nerve.

'Iona?' Dante whispered into the dark, attempting to make himself heard without waking his family.

'My lord.' Iona stepped out of the shadows and walked over to where he stood.

'I apologise for the delay.' Dante said, holding the door open for the elf 'After you.' She walked inside.

Iona had made herself comfortable, they had shared a couple of glasses of Orlesian wine and had talked at length, mostly about her. He had learnt about Iona's life in the Alienage, her daughter, and the fact that she hadn't had a partner, or even a lover, since she had lost her husband almost five years ago. He hadn't told her much about himself, such was his way, he preferred to listen and to learn; revealing as little about himself as possible.

Dante refilled her glass, 'So, Iona, how do you feel about humans?'

'That is… a difficult question. What exactly do you mean?'

'Do you find humans attractive?'

'Well… some humans certainly.'

'And what of me?'

'You are very handsome, it has to be said.'

'Well I happen to think that you…' he moved his face closer to hers, '…are incredibly attractive.'

He kissed her, she hesitated at first, then kissed him back; softly at first, then with more passion. He slipped his hand under her dress and moved it up her thigh.

'Wait…' she broke away '…it has been quite some time since I have…'

'Its alright.' he slid off the bed and onto his knees in front of her, 'I'll handle everything. Just lie back and enjoy it.' He positioned her feet to either side of him, and pulled her closer. Her breathing quickened as he rolled up her skirt and began kissing up her thigh. She lay back on the bed, closing her eyes and running her hands through his hair as his tongue did its work. It was not too long before she was forced to stifle groans and screams that could have been heard throughout the entire castle. The first of many.

9

Dante lay in the darkness, unable to sleep. He turned his head and looked at Iona, who had fallen asleep in his arms almost immediately after they had finished. _It seems I have exhausted the young lady_, Dante though to himself with more than a little pride.

Dante had enjoyed her, and the time that they had spent together, but this was the part that he hated. He didn't like sharing his bed, being so close to another person for so long made him feel uncomfortable; in fact the only living thing that he didn't mind sharing his room with was Dane, who often slept at the foot of his bed. Dane was not in the room tonight, however, because in Dante's experience; women were often put off by the slobbering mabari staring at them and panting along while they were enjoying the most intimate of acts. Nights like tonight Dane would happily wander around the castle and find somewhere warm to sleep.

Slowly, he pulled his arm from underneath the sleeping elf. One of the reasons he hated sharing his bed was the heat, he couldn't sleep when he was hot. He threw his legs out of bed and stood. He stretched and looked at Iona again, who had pulled the blankets right up to her chin, he could tell that Iona was not someone who usually slept peacefully. He supposed he wasn't surprised, growing up in an Alienage couldn't have been easy, or particularly safe. Dante crept naked into the small washroom that stood on one side of his bed chamber. He poured some water into the stone basin and rubbed it onto the back of his neck; which instantly refreshed him.

He stopped, turning his head, had he heard someone moving around in the hall? _Its probably Dane looking for somewhere to sleep. _Then he heard what he thought was a man's voice. _Maker, who has reason to be up at this hour? If its Arl Howe pacing again then we may be forced to have words…_

The door to the bed chamber crashed open and Dante froze, the wardrobe blocked his view of the open frame and he couldn't see who was there. Two arrows flew into view and both struck the sleeping elf. Iona made a small gurgling sound and fell silent. Dante threw himself next to the wardrobe and out of sight, pressing his back against the wall, his heart was pounding in his chest.

'Is that him?' A voice from the corridor.

'I'll check that the boy's dead so we can join up with the others.' A second voice replied. A figure entered the room, and passed right by him, but it was too dark for Dante to make out who it was. The man stopped a couple of feet away from Dante and stared down at the bed. 'Is it the Teyrn's son?' The first voice asked from the hall.

_So, they're looking for me. Well I wont disappoint them. _Dante reached across and gently plucked a steel mace that hung on his wall. His eyes adapted to the dark and he could now see the intruder's face, but it was nobody that he recognised.

Dante struck, leaping forward and smashing the mace into the back of the man's head. He fell immediately so Dante turned his attention to the second man, who was now stood in the door frame. Dante charged at the man, giving him no time to collect his thoughts and catching him off guard. The man panicked, attempting to nock another arrow but Dante was too quick, swinging the mace in a overhand arch, bringing the spiked ball onto the top of the man's head. There was a crunch as his helmet bent inwards and blood sprayed down onto the floor. The man collapsed at Dante's feet.

Dante stood, breathing heavily, blood running down his face and chest. The adrenaline rush was making him shake, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. He knelt down and examined the body. _This man I do recognise, but from where? Is he a bandit?_ He turned the corpse over, his jaw dropped as his eyes locked onto the insignia on the breastplate. _The Bear? That's Howe's insignia. This… is one of Howe's men! Why would Howe's men be trying to kill me? Are they acting under Howe's orders?_

'It's the Cousland boy!' Dante turned his head, to see another of Howe's men encroaching upon him, followed by a second. Dante grabbed the dead guard's sword and took a battle stance. He was outnumbered but he didn't care, these men were in his house, Iona was dead and he was angry, angrier than he had been in a long time. 'Looking for me? Well I'm right here! Let's see what you've got you bastards!'

The two men looked at each other, whatever they had expected to find inside Castle Cousland it hadn't been this; a naked young man, covered in blood and standing over the body of one of their fellows.

One of the soldiers ran at the boy, he swung his sword as hard as he could, trying to take the lads head off in one stroke. _Stupid mistake _Dante thought as he easily dodged the blow, ramming his own sword through the mans gut as he did so. The second guard panicked, he turned and tried to run, but he stopped in his tracks. A large mabari blocked his path, he put his hand on the hilt of his sword and attempted to pull it free. He wasn't quick enough, the dog jumped on him, its massive weight knocking him to the ground. Dane had ripped the soldiers throat out before he had chance to scream.

'Dane, here.' Dante called, the dog sprang immediately to his master's side.

Dante turned to see his parent's bedroom open and his mother step out. She was dressed in her armour and had her bow drawn.

'Dante?' she asked.

'Yes mother. It's me.'

'What in the Maker's name is going on? I heard shouting, and there were men in the hall.'

'It's Howe's men, they killed Iona and tried to kill me.'

'Howe's men, why? Why would he do this?'

Dante wasn't sure, but he had a good idea. 'He's attacking while our men are away.'

'Where's your father? We need to find him.'

'You're right, let me get dressed and we'll go.'

Dante put on his armour as fast as he could, but he did not rush, it would do him no good if his armour slipped in the midst of battle. He grabbed a steel long-sword and a large wooden shield. He took a deep breath and left his room.

_Wait, what of Oriana and Oren? _Dante sprinted across the hall and threw himself into his brother's door. _If there is a Maker, then please, __**please**__, make it so that they came to my room first. _But it was not so, in his brother's room he found the bodies of Oren and Oriana, both drenched in blood. Dante fell to his knees, he had never felt anything like this.

'By the Maker, NO!' Eleanor had followed Dante, and there she stood, tears running down her face. 'Howe is not even taking prisoners! Why is he doing this?'

'I don't know…' his voice full of hate. '…but I will see the bastard dead for this, I swear it.'

The Teyrna placed her hands on her son's shoulders. 'Come on, we cant stay here.'

Together Dante, Eleanor and Dane fought their way through Howe's forces. Leaving non alive. 'We have to get to the Great Hall, so we can find your father and escape.' The Teyrna said, firing an arrow into one of Howe's men.

'Escape?' Dante slammed his shield into another man, sending him sprawling, 'I want Howe dead.' He stabbed downwards, ending the man's life.

'No son, we're outnumbered. You must leave here alive, if something has happened to Fergus; then you must carry on the family name.'

'Is there nothing we can do?'

'We should get to the treasury, the Cousland family sword is there, if there is one thing worth saving in the whole castle, its that sword. Howe must never have it.'

'That's it? We can't just let Howe win.'

'Then survive, live to fight another day. And take vengeance.'

The three of them continued, joining up with any surviving Castle guards, that they found along the way. Together they battled dozens more of Howe's men, including trained mabari hounds the soldiers had brought with them. Dante took no pleasure in killing the dogs, they had no choice in the fight unlike their dishonourable masters.

Eventually they got to the Treasury, inside Dante procured the Cousland family sword, shield and armour. All of which Dante equipped. He grabbed as much gold as he could and stuffed his belt with sovereigns. The party then proceeded to look for survivors. They first checked the study, but found only brother Aldous's body, along with the bodies of the three young boys who he was tutoring. A search of the Chantrey was also unsuccessful, finding no sign of Mother Mallol.

At last they made their way to the main hall, Dante opened the door and peeked inside just as he had done earlier that day. But this time he did not find his father, instead they came upon Ser Gilmour and several others from the castle guard, fighting more of Arl Howe's men. They three of them joined the fight. Among Howe's forces was a mage, she hurled bolts of lightning around the Hall, frying many of Castle Cousland's loyal guards before Dante finally separated her head from her shoulders.

Once the remainder of the soldiers were dead, Dante approached Ser Gilmour. 'My Lord, and the Teyrna as well, it is good to see you live. When the fighting started it was all I could do to hold the gates. But I was certain Arl Howe's men had gotten through.'

'They did get through!' Dante did not mean to snap that Ser Gilmour, but his emotions were all over the place.

'Sir Gilmour…' Eleanor was relieved to see the young man unharmed, '…we need to find Bryce, do you have any idea where my husband is?'

'I believe the Teyrn was headed to the servant's entrance, my lady.'

'We have to find him, will you not come with us?'

'No, my lady. My duty is to stay here. I will give the two of you as much time as I can. Go, find the Teyrn.'

'Thank you Ser Gilmour.' Eleanor embraced the young knight, 'You will not be forgotten.'

Dante, his mother and Dane left the great Hall, for what Dante thought could well be the last time. The service entrance was in the kitchen, so it was that way in which they headed. They had almost made it, when their path was blocked. The knight that had accompanied Arl Howe to Castle Cousland stood before them.

'Step back, mother.' Dante said, putting an arm in his mother's way. 'This one is mine.' Dante placed his shield on the ground, by his mother's feet. He charged at the knight, leaping in the air he raised his sword above his head. The knight carried a maul, which he held up in defence. Dante struck down with his sword, a blow powerful enough to knock the maul out of his hands, but Dante lost his balance, both men crashed to the floor together. The knight grabbed hold of Dante, the two struggled but the knight was the stronger of the two men. He wrapped his hands around Dante's throat and began to squeeze. Dante felt unconsciousness beginning to creep over him, when an arrow hit the knight in the shoulder. His grip released, and Dante seized the opportunity, hooking his arm behind the knight's leg and sweeping the larger man, winding up on top of him. Dante punched the man with all the force he could muster, then again, and again until his face was raw and bleeding. Dante stood and lifted the knight's maul above his head, 'No, please.' The knight begged through broken teeth, but Dante would not listen, he brought the maul down as hard as he could, the knight's head disappearing beneath it.

The trio made their way through the kitchen, finding Nan's body as well as the servants, _More names to add to your list Howe. You seem good at murdering helpless women and children, we'll see how your skills fare when I find you. _They moved past and into the larder, where they would find the servant's exit. Dante looked down and saw an enormous amount of blood on the floor. He followed the trail with his eyes, it led to his father. Bryce was lay on the ground, clutching his stomach in a pool of blood. 'Father!'

'Bryce!' His mother added as the pair ran towards him.

'Eleanor… my son...' His voice sounded incredibly weak. 'Thank God you're alive. I feared… I feared…'

'Hush, Bryce.' Eleanor whispered. 'It's alright.'

'You have to get up, father. We have to get out here.'

'I would not survive the standing, I fear.'

'Then we'll simply have to drag you out.'

'Only… If you're willing to leave pieces of me behind, pup.'

'Come on, Bryce. Once Arl Howe's men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!'

'Leave me. Someone… must find Fergus… Warn him.'

'Bryce, no. We can flee together. Find you healing magic.'

'The Castle is surrounded… I cannot make it…'

'I am afraid the Teyrn is correct. Arl Howe's men have surrounded the Castle, getting past will be difficult.' A new voice, coming from the kitchen. Dante recognised the man who entered the room as Duncan of the Grey Wardens.

'Duncan…' Bryce was barely able to speak now '… I beg you, take my wife and son to safety!'

'I will, your lordship. But I fear I must ask for something in return.'

'Anything…'

'What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your Castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one.'

'I… I understand.' Bryce looked to his son. 'As long as he will live.'

'Then I offer you a place within the grey wardens. Fight with us.' Duncan now also looking at Dante.

'If this is what I have to do; then I accept your offer.'

'We must leave quickly then.' Duncan got to his feet, as did Dante, the Teyrna on the other hand, stayed where she was.

'Darling…' She said through tears, '… go with Duncan, you have a better chance to escape without me.'

'No, no.' Dante was in shock. 'I can't let you sacrifice yourself!'

'My place is with your father. By his side, to death and beyond.'

Dante did not know what to do, he just stood there until Duncan firmly took his arm and led him down the servants passage. Dante turned and looked at his parents, it seemed like a dream. 'I love you both… so much.' Duncan took his arm and pulled him away. That was the last time the Dante saw his parents, and it would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

10

They had walked. The commander of the Grey Wardens and his newest recruit walked for hours. Together they watched the sun rise, reach its highest point and set again. Duncan took the lead, plotting their path while keeping an eye on the road behind them, making sure Howe's men had not caught up. Dante just walked behind him, staring at the ground, his feet hurt and his legs ached but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Duncan noticed that the boy hadn't spoken since they had fled Highever, but he chose not to mention it, he would come around in his own time. Duncan was used to dealing with loss. They marched without resting for almost 20 hours until Duncan deemed it safe to make camp.

The pair made camp by the side of a lake; Dante collected firewood while Duncan and Dane went hunting for small game. They returned with three rabbits, which they cooked on a small fire. They ate in silence. After the meal Duncan attempted to strike up a conversation.

'Tell me Dante, have you ever heard the origin of the Darkspawn?'

Dante shook his head.

'The Chantrey teaches us that it is the hubris of men that first brought the darkspawn into our world. The mages had sought to usurp haven, but instead they destroyed it. They were cast out, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned as monsters; the first of the darkspawn. They became a blight upon the land, unstoppable and relentless. The dwarven kingdoms were first to fall, and from the deep roads the darkspawn struck at us again and again until finally until finally we neared annihilation. Until the Grey Wardens came. Men and women from every race; warriors and mages, barbarians and kings. The wardens sacrificed everything to stem the tide of darkness. It has been four centuries since the victory and we kept our vigil, we have watched and waited for the darkspawn to return; but those who once called us heroes have forgotten. We are few now, and are warnings have been ignored for too long. It may even be too late, for I have seen with my own eyes what lies on the horizon.'

'What do you mean?' Dante had listened intently to Duncan's story.

'I'm afraid I can't say any more until after your Joining ritual.'

'Joining ritual? What's that?'

'I'm sorry, my boy, I really cant say any more.' Duncan, stood and unfurled his bedroll. 'I do suggest you get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow.' Duncan undressed and got into his bedroll, he was asleep in minutes, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts.

_Gone__… its all gone. Mother, Father, Oren, Oriana, Nan, Aldous, Mallol, Ser Gilmour, Iona, the servants, the guards… all dead. And who's left? Me. The cowardly son who ran from the fight and abandoned his family. I wish I could go back, I'd tell Duncan to fuck his Grey Wardens and I'd murder every single one of Howe's men in the place. Then I'd find Howe himself and I'd gut the bastard, but I'd do it slow, I'd keep him alive as long as I could. _

But Dante knew there was no point dwelling on this, it wasn't like he could do anything about it now. If he went back to the castle now; all he'd find would be corpses. _And its not like I could of prevented it, there was no way I could've… _then a new thought hit him like a bolt of lightning. _I told him to do it. By the Maker, I told him to do it! He asked me if he should grasp an opportunity and __**I **__told him to do it! It really is all my fault, I'd been so concerned with trying to bed Iona that I wasn't listening to what Howe was telling me… _

Dante started pacing, he felt sick, his hands started shaking. The blame for everyone's death was on his shoulders. He walked down to the waters edge. _I could just walk into the water and be done with this, end it all. _For a moment he honestly considered it. _No. I'm not taking the coward's way out, never again. I'm going to be a Grey Warden, I have a job to do. I'll make my parents proud, there sacrifice will not be in vein. But there's going to be changes, no more being spoiled or acting without thinking, and no more chasing women. I'm a Warden now. _Dante unsheathed his dagger. Words were one thing, he needed to do something real, something to prove to himself that he was serious about changing. He grabbed a handful of his hair with one hand, wrapping it around his fingers. He brought the dagger up and started to cut.

11

Duncan awoke and at first he did not recognise the young man who stood before him. The boy who a few hour ago had a long black mane now had hair that was no longer than the stubble on his face. The boy's demeanour had also changed noticeably, his shoulders were no longer slumped and he walked with purpose.

'You certainly seem to be in a better mood.' The older man asked with a smile.

'Yes.' Dante replied, collecting his possessions together 'I feel a lot better. I know that I have to become a Warden, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes.'

'Good, because the life of a Warden is not an easy one, and once you start; you can never turn back. You could lose everything'

'That's fine by me Duncan, I have nothing to lose.'

The two men collected their equipment together and headed south. They travelled for days, walking during the daylight hours, training, eating and sleeping at night. By the time the tower of Ishal came into view the two travellers had grown close and Dante had learned much.

'We'll be at Ostagar before nightfall, once we arrive we will find the rest of the Wardens and make plans with the king. The events that take place here will make history, there can be no mistakes.'


	3. Chapter 2  Join Us

Chapter 2

Join Us

1

'Ho there Duncan!' Dante and Duncan had yet to reach the main camp at Ostagar when they were approached by a large contingent of soldiers. The man who had spoken to Duncan stood at the front of them, he wore magnificent golden armour that matched his blonde hair. _I expect this is King Cailan then _Dante thought _judging by the quality of his armour and the size of his personal guard, but why would the king be welcoming us personally? Doesn't he have a battle to plan?_

'King Cailan, I wasn't expecting…'

'A royal welcome?' The King warmly shook Duncan's hand. 'I was starting to think you were going to miss all the fun.'

'Not if I could help it your majesty.' Duncan replied.

'Then I will have the mighty Duncan at my side after all. The other Wardens told me you were tracking down a promising new recruit, I trust this is he?' The king moved past Duncan and focused his attention on Dante.

'Your majesty, may I introduce…'

'No need Duncan…' Cailan interrupted, '…you are Bryce's youngest, are you not? Dante wasn't it?'

'That's right, your majesty.'

'I don't believe we've actually met, but your father is a good friend of mine. Do you know when we should expect his arrival?'

'I… I don't think…' Duncan could see Dante struggling, so he decided to step in.

'The Teyrn will not be joining us, your majesty, he was killed when Castle Cousland was taken.'

'Dead?' The king was stunned. 'How? When?'

'Just recently. Arl Howe attacked Highever, he killed the Teyrn and the Teyrna and he would have killed us had we not escaped. Had his plan come to fruition, there would have been no witnesses and he could have told you any story he wished.'

'By the Maker.' The king looked at Dante, he struggled to find the words. 'Dante, I swear, there will be justice for this. Howe will not go unpunished. However I have much to deal with at the moment.'

'I understand, your majesty. I have sworn myself to the Wardens and I will do what is required of me, but once this is over I would see that bastard die by my hand.' Dante looked into the young king's eyes, making his meaning clear, these were not empty threats. Duncan winced, worried about the king's reaction; but Cailan only nodded.

'Very well. I expect you will want to speak to your brother.'

'Yes, your majesty, yet I am not eager to tell him about the death of his wife and child.'

'Fergus is out scouting the wilds at the moment, and I'm afraid there is no way to contact him until he returns after the battle.'

'I understand your majesty.'

'I am very sorry but I must cut this meeting short. Teyrn Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.'

'Your uncle sends his best wishes and asked me to remind you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.'

The king laughed, his mood lifted as it appeared he had forgotten all about the untimely death of his friend Bryce Cousland. 'Eamon just wants some of the glory for himself. We've won three battles against these beasts and tomorrow will be no different.'

Something about the king's gleeful attitude towards a conflict that had been the cause of his family's death really rubbed Dante up the wrong way, but he knew better than to call the king out on the subject. 'It sounds like the blight is almost over.' He said instead.

'I'm not even sure this is a true blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, certainly. But alas, we've seen no sign of an Archdemon.'

'Disappointed your majesty?' Duncan asked.

'I had hoped for a battle like the ones of legend.' Cailan, looked over the battlefield and seemed to lose himself in thought. 'A king riding into battle alongside the fabled Grey Wardens to vanquish a tainted god. But I suppose this will have to suffice. But anyway…' The king seemed to snap out of his daydream, he looked to the Warden and his recruit. 'I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. I look forward to our next encounter Grey Wardens.'

The king and his men returned to camp, leaving Duncan and Dante alone. 'What the king said is true. We have won every battle against the darkspawn so far.' Duncan watched the king as he crossed the great stone bridge that separated the tower of Ishal from the main fort of Ostagar.

'Yet you don't sound very reassured.' Dante could see the worry in his friend's eyes.

'I know that the Archdemon is behind this. Yet I cannot ask him to ask him to act solely on my word.'

'Why not? He seems quite enraptured with the Wardens.'

'The king may be a good man, but he's not good at taking advice. He wont wait for reinforcements and he doesn't put a lot of emphasis on strategy.'

'Perhaps we'd better get to work then, but a hot meal is my first priority.'

Duncan laughed and slapped the recruit on the back as they made their way across the bridge. 'Yes, we should begin making preparations for the joining ritual. Although the ritual itself is brief, it is vital in making you a Grey Warden.'

'What do I need to do?'

'Nothing for now.' Duncan smiled, 'Feel free to wander the camp, we'll begin to make preparations tomorrow morning.'

2

For the rest of that day Dante toured the camp. He came across a Drill Sergeant giving his soldiers a lesson in darkspawn anatomy. Dante joined the rest of the intently listening fighters and took in as much as he could. Lying on the ground, in front of the man who was addressing the troops, was a darkspawn. It could have been no taller than a dwarf, with green skin which looked slick with a transparent slime. The 'Genlock' as the Drill Sergeant called it seemed to grin with a mouthful of needle-like teeth, Dante shuddered with the thought of an entire horde of these savage beasts. Though he did feel slightly better at the Drill Sergeants' insistence that these monsters could be killed just like any other animal. _I should hope so, _Dante thought, _or my time as a Warden may be very short indeed. _

He carried on his exploration of the camp, and made a brief stop at the blacksmiths in order have some minor repairs made to his breastplate. Leaving his armour with the smithy, who was mumbling something incomprehensible about a missing elf, he passed by the medical tent on his way back to Duncan's encampment, the screams of the dying making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

As he climbed into his bedroll and fell into sleep; his dreams were haunted with the yells of those men who had already faced the darkspawn, mixed with the last screams of his parents. When he awoke, he found he was covered in icy sweat.

3

'Good morning lad.' Duncan happily greeted Dante as the young man stepped out of his tent.

'Morning.' Dante muttered in response, he had never been exceptionally good at early mornings and he hadn't slept well at all. He knew that he had had nightmares, but the memories had vanished like shadows in the cleansing light of day.

'Are you ready to begin preparations for your joining?' The Warden Commander asked, handing Dante a cup of herbal tea he had been brewing.

'Yes Duncan.' Dante took a sip of the tea and felt more awake. 'What must I do?'

'Firstly; you must find Alistair, the most junior member of the order. As the newest Warden, the responsibility falls on him to help you collect what you need for the ritual.'

'Alright. Sounds simple enough.'

'I am not sure where Alistair has wondered off to, but he will not be far. Take a look around the camp, and keep an eye out for the other recruits.'

'Other recruits? Am I not to undertake the ritual alone?'

'It is very common for a number of recruits to undertake the ritual at the same time, but believe me lad, everyone undertakes the ritual alone.'

Dante looked puzzled, Duncan saw a question about to pass his lips so he cut it off before he was forced to decline an answer. 'There are two other recruits in camp; Ser Jory, a knight of Redcliffe and Daveth, a rogue from Denerim. You will no doubt encounter them sooner or later.'

Dante nodded, he understood what he had to do and saw no point in delaying.

4

_Family… My new family. _It was a strange thought and it made him feel guilty to admit it, but it was true. Sitting around Duncan's campfire with his fellow Warden recruits, he truly felt at home. He looked around and considered his new clan. There was Duncan of course, their leader, who sat outside his tent with Dane at his feet. Then there was Daveth, a young man with jet black hair that he kept slicked back, his slender frame and inherent quickness made him a natural rogue, skilled with both bow and fighting knives. There was also Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe. Jory was a mountain of a man, standing taller than even Dante. Jory had the size and strength to wield a great-sword, and he did so with great effectiveness, or so he claimed. Finally there was Alistair, the newest full member of the Grey Wardens. He was a handsome young man with sandy blonde hair and fair complexion. Alistair fought with a sword and shield like Dante did, _I'll have to remember to ask for some tips _Dante thought to himself.

'So… are there any girl Wardens?' Daveth asked. Dante had liked Daveth right from the start. They had met outside the smithy, where Dante had been waiting in line. Dante had overheard Daveth attempting to woo young female soldier, he hadn't been successful. The two men had got talking and Daveth had informed Dante that while sneaking around the camp in the middle of the night; he had heard to Wardens discussing the joining ritual. 'I'm thinking they're planning to send us into the wilds.'

Dante had heard many tales of the Korcari Wilds growing up in Highever. There were stories of barbarians, demons, witches roaming through the forest; and Daveth's revelation had made him more than a little nervous, but he would not let that stop him. 'I'll watch your back if you watch mine.' Dante had said, and Daveth agreed.

'There are one or two within our ranks.' Duncan replied.

'Does that mean I'll get to meet them?' Daveth grinned.

'I'm surprised there's a woman in camp you haven't met.' Ser Jory joined in drawing a laugh.

'Or attempted to 'meet' at least.' Dante jested, getting another laugh.

While Dante had liked Daveth right from the off, the same could not be said for Jory. Dante supposed to being unfair, as he had only just met the man; but there was just something about Jory that he didn't like. When the two had met; Jory had been attending a Chantry prayer meeting, that alone was enough to put Dante off. But it was Jory's attitude towards Dante's fighting skill that had really angered the young warrior. 'Are you trained as a soldier?' Jory had asked, and when Dante replied that he hadn't been, Jory uttered a simple 'Oh.' and looked disappointed. This Dante had taken as disrespect.

Duncan stood up, 'It is time for me to retire to my quarters, and I would suggest that you do the same. There will be much to do tomorrow.'

The elder Warden entered his tent and the fabric swung shut behind him.

'Duncan is right.' Jory said, also standing. 'Tomorrow will be dangerous, and some of us may not survive.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Daveth teased. 'You reckon you've got a better chance of surviving than me?'

'No, no, all I meant was…' Dante could hear the two men arguing all the way back to their tent. Eventually the two men were out of earshot, leaving Dante and Alistair alone by the campfire.

On their first meeting; Alistair had been very talkative, even funny, since then he seemed to have gone quiet. Alistair had not joined in with any of the banter, and now sat staring into his stew. But now the pair were alone together Dante was sure he could get him talking again.

'Everything all right, Alistair?' He asked.

'Tell me Dante…' he didn't look up, 'have you ever face the darkspawn before?'

'No, I can't say I have.'

'When I bought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I'm not looking forward to repeating the experience.'

Now that Dante thought about it, he realised that he had never for anything besides other men, and he had no idea what to expect. _I may be a little bit over my head here._

The two men sat in silence as Dante struggled to find something to talk about.

'So… Alistair. Tell me something about yourself.'

This time Alistair did look up. 'You first.' he said. 'Did you want to become Grey Warden?'

'I honestly don't know. I've never known what I wanted. I suppose I've always wanted the chance to do something great, and saving the world seems like a good place to start.'

'I was conscripted. Not that I didn't want to join. I was training as a Templar for the Chantry before Duncan recruited me. That was about six months ago.'

'Templar? You were a mage hunter?'

'That's right. But joining the Chantrey wasn't my idea. My fate was decided for me long before that. Duncan saw I wasn't happy, and figured my training as mages could double fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden. Duncan risked a lot of trouble with the grand cleric to help me. He is a good man. Did he help you too?'

'I think I can safely say that without Duncan I wouldn't be alive today.'

'Sounds familiar, you'd be surprised how many Wardens join out of necessity.'

'Alistair. What is this joining ritual all about?'

'I wish I could, but I cant tell you anything. But I can tell you that you have as good a chance as any recruit that I've ever seen take the joining.'

'And how many recruits have you seen take the joining?'

'Three'

'Is that including you?'

'…yes.'

The two men laughed, 'That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.'

5

'I hate early-mornings.' Dante said, taking another spoonful of porridge.

'Me too…' Daveth agreed, '…drinking 'till the early morning, I'm pretty experienced at that.'

'You'll get used to it, believe me.' Alistair said, wolfing down his own breakfast.

_By the Maker, look at that boy eat. I've never seen someone put food away that fast._

'Recruits! Duncan wants to see us immediately.' Jory came jogging over to where the other recruits sat eating.

'Did you really have to run?' Daveth smirked and Dante laughed.

'Come on, we should go to hear what Duncan wants.' Alistair scraped the last of his breakfast from the bowl and got to his feet. The recruits followed him.

Duncan was stood facing away from them, his hands behind his back, when he turned to look at the recruits his face was serious. 'Now then, seeing as you're all here I suppose we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks in preparation for your joining. The first task is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.'

Jory looked concerned, 'What do we need darkspawn blood for?'

'For the joining itself. I'll explain more once you've returned.'

'Alright, the blood seems simple enough, what's the second task?' Dante asked.

'There was once a Grey Warden archive in the wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them.' He turned to look at Alistair, who had been standing on the sidelines. 'Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.'

'What kind of scrolls are these?' Daveth stepped forward.

'Old treaties if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago. They were once considered only formalities. But with so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with.'

'Is this part of our joining to?' Dante asked.

'No, but the effort must be made. I have every confidence that you are up to the task.'

'But what if they're no longer there?'

Duncan considered for a second. 'It's possible the scrolls may have been destroyed or even stolen, though the magic seal should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal.'

'I don't understand…' They turned to Alistair, 'Why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?'

'It was assumed we would someday return. A great many things were assumed that have not held true.'

'I understand, what we have to do.' Dante said, swinging his shield onto his back. 'Let's go slay some darkspawn.'

Duncan smiled, 'Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely.'

'Yes Duncan, we will.' The youngest Warden responded.

'Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.'

Duncan watched the Wardens walk away and wondered to himself who, if any among them, would survive the day's events. Many good men had died in the joining, and many more would, but he had faith in his recruits. Only time would tell whether his faith was justified.

6

Misery. Since they had entered the Korcari Wilds, Dante had been stung by rash-vine, bitten by mosquitoes and attacked by a pack of wolves. _I can handle that, handle it all… _he thought, _but the rain… the rain is __**too much.**_ It had rained for hours, they were all soaking wet and freezing cold.

The trees had shed their leaves and the foliage now lay rotting on the ground, making it slick. A biting wind howled through the trees making the Wardens shiver. A strange smell hung in the air, and it seemed to be getting stronger.

Jory was leading the group, using his great-sword to hack away at the vegetation. Daveth followed him closely, his bow drawn. Dante came afterward and Alistair brought up the rear.

'What in the name of the Maker is that smell?' Daveth pulled his scarf over his mouth.

'Please Daveth!' Jory spun around, 'There could be darkspawn anywhere. We have to be quiet.' he begged.

'Alright fine. But what **is **that smell?'

Jory walked through a particularly dense patch of shrubbery and disappeared from sight. 'I'm sure its nothing, probably just…'

The abrupt silence caused the recruits to look at each other, before they crashed through the undergrowth, not knowing what to expect.

As they burst into the clearing Jory turned to face them, his face was as white as a ghost. After Dante had registered his expression he looked past the knight to see what had caused him such distress. Dante's blood ran cold. There were corpses, dozens of them. From what Dante could tell; they were the bodies of the kings scouts. All of the bodies had been mutilated in some way. Some of them were nailed to the trees, some had been burned and some decapitated. A sudden thought crossed his mind and he frantically checked the faces of the carcasses. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that Fergus was not among them.

'Maker help us…' Jory muttered, '…an entire patrol of season men, killed by darkspawn. What chance do we have?'

'Calm down, Ser Jory. We'll be fine as long as we are careful.' Alistair placed a hand on the knight's shoulder.

Jory shook the hand off. 'These men were careful and they still wound up dead! How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army in these forests!'

'There are darkspawn about but we are in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde.'

'How do you know? I'm not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back before its too late.' Jory turned and started back the way they had come.

'You sound like a coward to me.' Dante stepped in the knight's way. 'Did you think being a Warden was going to be easy? Look at these men! This is exactly why Wardens are needed. Because we're the only ones who can survive against a threat like this.'

'I… I'm simply trying to stay alive. I have a wife and child.' The huge man looked on the verge of tears.

Alistair stepped between the two men, 'A bit of fear isn't unnatural, you know. Few relish meeting darkspawn up close. I know I don't.'

'I didn't say that I did, but we have a job to do, and I'll be damned if anyone's going to stop me from doing it.' Dante stepped back, wiping the rain from his brow.

Alistair faced Ser Jory and took the man by the arms. 'Know this: all Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here.'

'You see Sir Knight, we might die, but we'll be warned about it first.' Daveth attempted to lighten the mood.

'That doesn't mean this is going to be easy however. Let's get a move on.' Alistair said.

The recruits cut down all the hanging bodies while Alistair said a quick prayer to the Maker, he wished that he had time to bury his fallen allies, but he had more pressing matters to attend to and the hour was drawing late.

As Dante cut down the last body, a young lad who had been cut in half just above the waist, a large black raven perched on a branch next to him. The bird seemed to inspect him with its large gold ringed eyes. Dante looked back at the bird and thought he saw some kind of intelligence in its eyes. The raven flew away and Dante dismissed it.

7

The walk had gotten easier when they found the road, though Dante supposed it wasn't really a road anymore. Weeds and grass had grown out between the cobbles and a large percentage of the stones were missing. Alistair had told them this was the road that had once lead to the Warden tower, so they had followed it uphill to where they estimated the ruins of the tower would be.

'Look!' Alistair pointed over the treetops, the recruits followed his line of sight and saw part of the Warden's tower, white brick against the dark grey clouds. 'That's the tower, it should only take us a few…' Alistair stopped mid sentence.

'What's wrong?' Dante asked, but he already had a good idea what the problem was. His eyes followed the path to a dark figure stood in the middle of the road. The figure seemed to double, Dante wiped the rain from his eyes and saw there were indeed two shapes on the road. Then another walked out from the undergrowth, followed by two more. 'Darkspawn.' Alistair whispered, drawing his weapon, the recruits followed suit.

One of the creatures roared and charged at the Wardens, the rest of the beasts behind it, howling and baying for blood. 'Battle positions!' Alistair cried, positioning his shield. Dante raised his own shield, preparing for the impending impact. Daveth began firing arrows, bringing down a darkspawn and drawing first blood.

_Here we go. _A darkspawn slammed into him, Dante dug his heels into the ground as he had been trained to do, but the earth was so wet that he slipped and landed on his chest with a crash. He rolled onto his back just in time to see the axe swinging toward his face. He brought his shield up and interrupted the hatchet's path. Spinning onto his knees he swung his own weapon, slashing the darkspawn across the chest and sending blood spraying though the air. The spawn shrieked and fell onto its back.

Jory's blade crashed into a darkspawn, sending it flying through the air. Daveth bobbed and weaved, slicing his knives through any exposed darkspawn flesh. Alistair was the most effective, his two arms seemed to move independently of each other, his sword cutting through tissue and his shield breaking bone with morbid efficiency. Dante was taken aback by his skill, _And he's the most junior Warden, _Dante thought, _I cant wait to see what some of the veterans are capable of!_

A roar split the air. Another darkspawn joined the battle. 'Alpha!' Alistair cried, this darkspawn was bigger than the rest, its armour was better and it carried an axe that could not have been forged by darkspawn hands, undoubtedly a battle trophy. The Alpha charged at Jory heaving the battle axe over its head. Jory swung his blade and the two weapons collided with a terrific clang. Jory was sent sprawling backwards. The Alpha swarmed him, hacking away with the huge axe. Jory crawled as fast as he could, but the Alpha stayed on him.

_If I don__'t do something he's dead. _Dante sprinted toward the Alpha, he slipped in the mud, his feet almost went out from underneath him but he kept his balance. …_don't fall… don't fall… don't fall… don't fall… _He dropped his shield to correct his balance. Dante threw himself into the air. The Alpha turned and tried to defend itself but it wasn't fast enough. Dante slashed in a backhand motion. The Cousland family sword did its work as the darkspawn's head rolled off its shoulders.

8

Dante pressed the vial into the an open wound and watched the dark, thick blood ooze out. He watched Daveth and Jory doing the same with their own kills. _I wonder if I get more points for an Alpha?_

Alistair came back down the hill. 'Are you nearly done? The tower isn't too far up the hill, but it does get pretty steep.'

_Great… more walking. _He turned his face to the sky and enjoyed the warmth as the sun broke through the clouds. _At least its stopped raining. _

It was a slow trudge up to the tower. They were all tired from the fight, but none of them asked for a break.

The old Warden tower came into full view. The stone, which may once have been white marble, had greyed with age. The tower had been broken in half, and much of the bottom half was also missing, giving the structure a jagged knife-like silhouette.

They each climbed over a small pile of rubble as they entered what was once the main hall. Dante was engrossed, he could feel the history of the place. 'Look.' Alistair pointed to a chest that sat on one side of the hall, half covered with debris. Daveth crossed to the chest and knelt before it, going to work with his lockpick. Alistair and Jory stood in anticipation, while Dante drank in the sights of the ancient ruin. There was a staircase that was broken halfway up, _A staircase to nowhere, _Dante mused.

'Here we go!' Daveth exclaimed.

'Excellent, now lets…' Alistair trailed off. '… I don't understand.'

'What is it?' Dante asked, still with his back to them.

'The scrolls, they're gone.'

'What do you…' Dante was stopped halfway through his sentence, his eyes had caught someone moving down the stairs.

It was a young woman. For a moment Dante was dumbstruck. Her skin was flawless and as white as porcelain, a perfect juxtaposition to her raven black hair.

'Well, well, what have we here? Are you a vulture , I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?' She walked over to Dante and addressed him directly.'What say you? Scavenger or intruder?'

Dante was dazzled by her golden eyes and for a moment was unable to answer. Eventually he found the words. 'I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.'

'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse.' She moved past him, but Dante couldn't take his eyes off her. 'I have watched your progress for sometime. Where do they go I wonder, why are they here?'

Alistair moved next to Dante, 'Don't answer her, she looks chastened and that means others may be nearby.'

'Ah, you fear barbarians may swoop down upon you?'

'Yes… swooping is… bad.'

Jory moved behind Dante and Alistair, clearly afraid. 'She's a Witch of the Wilds, we shouldn't be talking to her.'

'Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies those legends.' She looked at Dante, 'You there, handsome lad, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civil.'

'Alright, you can call me Dante. A pleasure to meet you.'

She smiled at him, 'You may call me Morrigan. So can I guess your purpose here? You sought something you believed was in that chest? Something that is here no longer.'

Alistair stepped forward, 'Here no longer? You stole them didn't you? You're some kind of sneaky… witch… thief!'

'How very eloquent, tell me, how does one steal from dead men?'

'Quite easily it seems. Those documents are great Grey Warden property. I demand you return them immediately!'

'I will not, for it was not I who removed them.'

'Then who removed them?' Dante asked.

'It was my mother.'

Dante raised an eyebrow. 'Your mother? Can you take us to her?'

'At last, a sensible request. I like you.'

Alistair whispered into Dante's ear. 'Be careful. First it's 'I like you' then ZAP! Frog time.'

Jory took a step backwards, 'We shouldn't go with her. She'll put us in the pot, mark my words.'

'If the pots warmer than this forest it'll make a nice change.' Daveth joked, unable to draw a smile from Jory.

Morrigan sighed, 'Follow me then.' She turned and headed into the bush. Alistair looked at Dante who shrugged. Dante and Alistair followed her, Daveth put a hand on Jory's back and began pushing him after the others.

Morrigan moved through the thick vegetation with an animal-like grace. The Wardens, even the agile Daveth, stumbled and crashed after her. In the middle of the forest was a small wooden hut. An old woman was stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest.

'Mother. I bring you four Grey Wardens who…'

'I see them girl. Much as I expected.' The old woman interrupted.

'Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?' asked Alistair.

'You are required to do nothing boy, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide, either way, one's a fool.'

Jory leaned forward to speak to Alistair. 'She's a witch I tell you. We shouldn't be talking to her.'

Daveth punched him on the arm, 'Shut up Jory, if she is a witch do you really want to make her mad?'

Morrigan's mother laughed. 'Now there's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the grand scheme of things.' She turned her attention to Dante, 'What of you? Do you believe the same as the others, or do you hold a different opinion?'

Dante considered the question, 'I don't know what to believe.'

'A statement with more wisdom than it implies. So much about you is uncertain and yet I believe. Do I? Why yes, it seems I do. But enough of me. You came here for your treaties. Here.' She produced them from her hut, 'I have protected them.'

'You… oh… you protected them?' Alistair inspected them.

Morrigan's mother laughed again. 'And why not? Take them, and tell your Grey Warden that this threat is greater than they realise.'

'How do you know all this?' Dante asked.

'Do I? Perhaps I'm simply an old woman with a penchant for mouldy old parchments. But do not mind me, you got what you came for.'

'Well… goodbye then.' Dante said, 'And thank you.'

'Yes, goodbye.' Morrigan chimed in.

'Nonsense girl. These are your guests. You will see them out of the forest.'

'Very well mother…' She sighed, 'Follow me.'

9

The Warden and the recruits followed the witch out of the wilds. Jory stayed the furthest back. He did not trust the witch and didn't want to take any risks. Alistair and Daveth were in front of him engrossed in a conversation about what they had been through that day. Dante was right behind Morrigan. He had a near uncontrollable desire to speak to her, but he resisted. _I have a gift for spotting a good looking woman, and Morrigan is certainly beautiful. But I also have a gift for spotting trouble, and Morrigan is certainly trouble. A few weeks ago a pack of wild Mabari couldn't keep me from a woman like her. But I'm a Warden now, I must be above such things. Still, no harm in looking._

She stopped and turned to the Wardens. 'I will go no further. Your camp is over the next hill. Farewell Wardens.'

Alistair and Daveth moved past her, Daveth giving her a nod, Alistair giving her a scowl. Then Jory shuffled past, not daring to look at her. For a moment Dante and Morrigan stood in silence. 'Well… goodbye.' She said before turning away and walking back the way they'd come. Once again Dante's eyes were drawn to her, he didn't think he'd ever wanted a woman this badly. _Never mind, _he thought to himself, _it's not like I'll ever see her again anyway._

10

Duncan watched as the recruits approached, Alistair leading them. He looked down at Dane who was happily panting by his feet. _I hope we don't lose any of them, _Duncan thought, _Maker knows we'll need them. _'So, you have returned from the Wilds. Have you been successful?'

'We have.' Alistair handed the treaties to Duncan, who looked over them briefly before rolling them up and putting them in his pack.

'I will get the circle mages to prepare the blood so we can begin the joining as soon as possible.'

'Now will you tell us what this ritual is about?' Dante asked.

'We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that pay your price now rather than later.'

'Wait. Are you saying this ritual could kill us?' Jory looked worried.

'As can any darkspawn might face, but I would not have selected you if I did not believe you have a strong chance to survive.'

Daveth took a deep breath, 'Let's go then, I'm anxious to see this joining.'

'Yes…' Jory hesitated, 'Let's have it done.'

'Then I will get everything in order. Alistair, prepare the recruits and then join me at the old temple.'

The atmosphere was tense. They could all feel it. Alistair had lead them to a ruin that could no longer be called a temple. Only a few scattered pillars and a large stone alter remained. Dante felt sick, he couldn't remember ever being this nervous. Daveth sat on the ground sharpening his knives, while Jory paced around him. 'The more I hear about this joining the less I like it.' The knight said.

Daveth set his sharpening stone on the ground. 'Are you blubbering again?'

Jory stopped, 'Why all these damn tests! Have I not earned my place?'

'Maybe its tradition… maybe they're just trying to annoy you.'

'Stop yammering!' Dante growled at the two men, 'I'm stressed enough as it is.'

'I have a wife in Highever with a child on the way! It just doesn't seem fair.'

Daveth jumped to his feet, 'Would you have come if they'd warned you? Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must right?'

'Including sacrificing the four of us?'

'I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it'd end the blight. You saw those darkspawn today, wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?' Daveth said, and Dante had to agree.

'Maybe you'll die, maybe we'll all day, if nobody stops the darkspawn we'll die for sure.' Daveth sat back down.

'I've just never faced a foe I couldn't engage with my blade.'

'At last we come to the joining.' They all turned to see Duncan appear from the shadows. 'The Grey Wardens were founded during the first blight. When humanity stood on the verge of annihilation and so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.' From behind his back Duncan produced a large silver chalice, holding a thick liquid that was so dark it almost looked black. They could smell it immediately, a sickly sweet stench that turned their stomachs.

Jory put a hand over his mouth. 'We're going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?'

'As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory.'

Alistair moved to Duncan's back, 'Those who survive the joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon.'

'Let's get on with it then.' Dante wiped the sweat from his brow.

'We speak only a few words prior to the joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?'

'Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn, and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.'

Duncan held out the chalice. 'Daveth, step forward.'

Daveth took a step toward Duncan and took the chalice. He brought it up to his lips and looked at Dante, who shrugged.

'Well… bottoms up.' Daveth took a swig and set the vessel on the altar. For a moment nothing happened. Daveth retched violently, doubling up so quickly he toppled forwards. He shook as his body was rocked with spasms. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He coughed and gagged, blood began pouring from his mouth.

'I'm sorry Daveth.' Duncan said as Daveth lay still.

'Maker's breath!' Jory stepped back.

Duncan picked up the goblet and turned his attention to the knight.

'Step forward, Jory.'

The huge man seemed to shrink. 'But I have a wife and child… had I known…'

'It is too late to turn back now.'

'No. You ask too much. There is no glory in this.' Jory, drew his sword.

'You cannot turn back now.' Duncan drew his knife.

Jory's eyes spun searching for a way out. He could find none. The Warden Commander approached. Jory lashed out, swinging his blade as hard as he could. Duncan parried the blow easily, stepping forward and driving his blade into Jory's belly. The knight gasped as Duncan turned the curved blade and pulled it out, spilling his guts onto the old stone. Jory fell down, dead.

'I am sorry Jory. But the joining is not yet complete.' Duncan picked up the goblet and handed it to the final recruit. Dante took it and beheld its deadly contents. _Do I really want to do this? Die here surrounded by these men? I could run, they'd try to stop me. I could fight them. I might be able to take Alistair but Duncan would almost certainly kill me. _Then he remembered his parents, and the sacrifice they had made. _If they would lay down their lives for me, then what kind of man would I be if I couldn't do the same to save innocent people._

He drank, and drank deeply. He felt it immediately, every muscle in his body tightened and cramped. He crumpled to the ground.

'You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good. From this moment forward you are a Grey Warden.' Duncan's words faded to silence in Dante's ears. His vision blurred and in a few moments he couldn't see anything. He felt searing pain through his entire body.

_This is the end._


	4. Chapter 3 The Hearts of Men

Chapter 3

The Hearts of Men

1

He stood alone in a field of blood red roses. The sun shone warmly on his skin from a flawless blue sky. A cool breeze blew through his hair. He could remember nothing of darkspawn or the joining or Arl Howe. He was content, happy even.

There was a strange aroma on the air, the unmistakeable scent of smoke. He turned. The field was burning. The cool breeze whipped up into a gale, he covered his eyes from the stinging smoke and dust. The sky had become smeared with black clouds. _There's a storm coming._ An earth shattering roar filled his ears. Fear gripped him. A dragon landed before him. The size of the creature was startling, it was covered with dark scales that looked impenetrable, its mammoth claws dug into the ground, churning up the earth. Yet at the same time the beast looked sick, there was a dark ooze running from its eyes and nose. It looked at Dante, moving its huge head to within a few feet of his face. Its mouth opened, revealing row after row of gigantic teeth. Flames exploded outward from its throat, engulfing Dante in the searing inferno. He tried to scream but his vocal cords were gone. His flesh peeled from his bones and his bones turned to dust, blowing away into the wind. _There's a storm coming._

2

Alistair had been tending to Dante for three nights, just as the most junior Warden had tended to him after his joining. _It'll be a relief not to be the new guy anymore, _he thought to himself. Dane sat at the foot of the cot, the mabari hadn't left his master's side since the night of the joining when Alistair and Duncan had carried his unconscious body back to the tent. Dante stirred and groaned in his sleep, Alistair didn't envy him, he knew the kind of nightmares he was having. Maker knew he'd experienced them himself. He leaned back in his chair and stretched.

Dante's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in his bunk. Dane sprang to his feet and began barking in sheer glee at his master's recovery. The look of horror on Dante's face made Alistair feel like getting up and running from the tent. 'Wha… what?' He stuttered.

'Easy, easy, its alright.' Alistair attempted to calm him. 'The joining is over. You've been dreaming. You're alright. You're safe.'

'I don't… I cant remember… What was real? Daveth and Jory, are they dead?'

'Unfortunately, yes. Poor bastards. I remember in my joining only one of us died, but it was… horrible.' Alistair shuddered slightly at the memory, 'But at least one of you made it through in one piece.'

'I don't know about that; my head feels like its been split in two.'

The fabric door of the tent swung open as Duncan entered, the old man's face lit up upon seeing Dante awake, he looked like a different man to the one who had murdered Jory in cold blood. 'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'About as well as you'd expect, but its over now, I'm fine.'

'I expect you had some dreams.' Alistair joined in, 'I had terrible dreams after my joining.'

'Such dreams come and go as you begin to sense the darkspawn as we all do. That and many other things will be explained in the months to come.'

'Here.' Alistair held out a pendant, it was gold with the Grey Warden symbol engraved into it and it had a small red gem in the centre. 'Something to remind you of those who did not make it this far.'

Dante took the pendant and hung it around his neck. He was now a Grey Warden.

3

'Keep your shields higher!' Duncan called out. Dante and Alistair obeyed, never taking their eyes off each other. They circled one another, their swords at the ready, their feet kicking up the dirt of the training ring. Alistair leapt forward, jabbing with his blade, Dante parried the blow with ease, shooting a cocky smile at his fellow Warden.

It had been two weeks since the joining and Dante couldn't believe the change. He was stronger, faster, his hearing and sight had improved; all in all he felt fantastic. He supposed his new training regime had something to do with his improving health. Duncan was a strict taskmaster. Training began before sunrise and didn't end until nightfall, but Dante didn't mind the long hours, he hungered for the training; and the more he learned the more he wanted to know. Mere days ago Alistair was running rings around him when they sparred, he was lucky if he could force a draw, but no longer. Dante was confident that he now equalled Alistair in combat; and perhaps even surpassed him. Dante was under no illusions however, it was the darkspawn blood that had enhanced him. He could feel it running through his veins. The taint. _I'm tainted, _he thought, _but Maker help me it feels great!_

Alistair attacked again with a flurry of swings, Dante bobbed and weaved out of the way. Dante waited for his chance. Then Alistair swung again, one too many, overextending himself. Dante darted forwards, landing a front kick to Alistair's stomach. Alistair landed flat on his back, the air knocked out of him. He raised his shield in one final attempt at defence. Dante brushed it aside and levelled his sword at Alistair's throat. 'Yield?' he asked with a grin.

'Do I have a choice?'

Dante offered a hand and Alistair took it, getting to his feet. Dante looked to Duncan, 'Are we going again?'

Alistair sighed, 'Must we?'

'No, that will be all the training for today.'

Dante frowned, 'We have never finished training before midday.'

'Today is a special case, the king is holding a meeting with myself and Teyrn Loghain. He has also requested your presence.'

'Me?' Dante was dumbstruck. 'Why?'

'Honestly; I am not sure. But it is unwise to ignore the wishes of the king.'

4

_Unwise to ignore the wishes of the king? Well this doesn't seem very fucking wise to me! _Dante thought, using his shield to flip another hurlock over his shoulder. He spun, using his family's sword to slash open a darkspawn throat. _Another one down, plenty more to go._

The meeting with the king had gone fairly well. He, Duncan, Cailan, Teyrn Loghain, The Revered Mother and a mage from the Circle Tower, Dante thought his name may have been Uldred, had congregated around an ancient assembly table in the same ruin in which the joining had been carried out. Teyrn Loghain had stepped forward, Dante had been in awe, the man was a living legend after all. Loghain had been one of the main factors in Fereldan's rebellion and eventual independence from the occupying forces of Orlais.

The Teyrn's plan had been simple yet brilliant; the king's forces, along with the Wardens and the mages were to engage the darkspawn head on, while Loghain's troops waited just out of sight in the tree line. Once the darkspawn had fully committed their forces, the signal fire in the tower of Ishal would be lit, signalling to Loghain and his men and allowing them to flank the darkspawn, crushing them in a pincer movement.

_It was a good plan, too bad he didn't see this coming. _Dante cracked a genlock in the face with the edge of his shield, denting the creature's skull. Alistair was engaged with a darkspawn of his own. 'I didn't think there was going to be any resistance!' He called out over the roar of battle.

'Two hours ago you were complaining that you wouldn't get to fight.'

'… good point.'

An arrow whizzed overhead, Dante ducked. He raised his guard just in time to hear three more arrows clang off of his shield. 'Archers!' He cried. There were at least a dozen of them, too many to charge. 'Pull back!' He leapt over a low stone wall and took cover, Alistair doing the same.

'Any ideas?' Alistair asked.

Dante raised his head just high enough to see over the wall. 'Alright, alright. I have a plan. You draw their attention while I…'

A fireball soared over the top of them, exploding just in front of the archers, engulfing them in flames.

'What in the name of the Maker was that!' Alistair cried, his ears ringing from the blast.

'Sorry!' A small voice called out from the shadows.

'Alright Loghain.' The king addressed his general. 'The plan is sound. The Wardens and I will lead the charge and your men will join the battle when signalled.'

'I will have two men stationed at the top of the tower ready to light the fire, your majesty.' Teyrn Loghain replied, he had the lined face of a man who had endured much stress, and dark circles under his eyes, Dante guessed he hadn't had much sleep of late.

'No, the signal fire is absolutely essential to the plan. We need the best to ensure it gets done. Dante Cousland, please.' The king waved Dante over, who up to this point had been stood at the back, listening intently. 'Dante, you and Alistair will light the signal fire.'

Dante thought that he would have been relieved to hear such news, Maker knew he was nervous about the impending battle, but he was surprised to find himself bitterly disappointed. He had grown to like the idea of fighting alongside his fellow Wardens, perhaps even gaining a little bit of glory in the act. Now it seemed he had been demoted from Warden to woodcutter. He was about to raise his voice in protest but a warning glance from Duncan was enough to keep him silent.

'Yes, your majesty.' Dante bowed.

The mage stood before them, a young man who couldn't have been long out of his teens. He had his long brown hair tied loosely and it hung down his back.

'Sorry about that, I wasn't trying to hit you.'

Dante was inspecting the incinerated darkspawn. 'No need to apologise, you've done us a favour.' He looked the mage in the eye. 'But what are you doing here?'

'I was stationed here with four soldiers and two templars, we were supposed to protect the tower. I guess the Revered Mother didn't trust me to fight alongside the other mages.'

'Why not?' Alistair asked, he was sat on a chunk of rubble and was patting Dane on the head.

'I tried to help a friend, a friend who I badly misjudged.' The young mage seemed to struggle with what to say next, so Dante thought he'd spare him the effort.

'So where did all these darkspawn come from?'

The mage looked relieved at the change of topic. 'Honestly, I don't know for sure.'

'My guess would be some kind of cellar.' Alistair said. 'Which is good for us, because we're going up, and we should get going.'

'Agreed.' Dante said, smiling at the young mage. 'What about you? Will you help us reach the signal fire?'

'I… I guess I will.'

Alistair's reaction to the news that the two of them would not be participating in the battle was very similar to Dante's own reaction. He was bitterly disappointed. 'Wait, wait, wait.' He held a hand up to Duncan, 'You mean we wont even get to fight?'

'Not if everything goes to plan.'

'I can't believe this. He needs two Grey Wardens holding a torch?'

'I have to agree with Alistair.' Dante interjected, 'We're both well trained, we could be of great use in the battle.'

'This is not your choice. Whatever the king wants we shall provide. It is our job to do our duty exciting or not.'

'Fine I get it, but if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line.'

Dante gave his friend an peculiar look, 'I must say Alistair, you have some odd ideas about the king.'

Duncan sighed, 'Listen. You must cross the gorge to the tower of Ishal. From the top you will be able to see the entire valley. When you see the sign, light the signal fire.'

'Alright, but after we've crossed the gorge, climbed the tower and set the signal fire, **Then** can we join the battle?' Dante was doing his best not to get frustrated.

'Stay with the Teyrn's men. If you're needed then I will send word.'

_Remember, you're a Warden. Warden's do their duty. Don't get focused on glory._

'Alright, I know what we have to do.'

'Then remember…' Duncan stepped forward, placing a hand on each man's shoulder. '… you are Grey Wardens, I expect each of you to earn that title.' Duncan and Dante exchanged a salute and began walking away from each other. Alistair stayed where he was, watching Duncan leave.

'Duncan!' Alistair called, and the old Warden turned to face him. 'I… may the Maker watch over you.'

Duncan smiled 'May he watch over us all Alistair.'

Dante ascended another flight of stairs. _Stairs… _he thought, _So many stairs. If I never climb another fucking stair again I'll die a happy man. _He almost treasured the darkspawn he had to kill on the way up, because when he was killing, he wasn't climbing stairs. _We __**must **__be nearing the top by now, _he thought, turning and looking at his fellow Warden. Alistair wiped the sweat from his brow and threw a glace back, Dante saw his own frustration and weariness reflected back at him.

He stumbled, another of the stone steps was broken, it was not the first he had seen on the way up. _It looks like something heavy has fractured the stone. Although what it could be, I couldn't say. _He reached another heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs. _This has to be the top floor._

He looked at the mage who was walking behind Alistair, he looked considerably more comfortable than the two of them. _Probably because he doesn't have to carry a man's weight in armour, I wouldn't mind some of those mage robes for myself. _Dane sprang up the stairs after them, drawing from his seemingly limitless energy supply.

'This should be the top floor. The signal fire should through there.' Alistair gestured to the door.

'Thank the Maker for that.' Dante said, opening the door. 'Look at the bright side. At least the hard part's done.' He walked through the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

'Oh shit…'

5

King Cailan stood on the battlements, overlooking his army. He took a deep breath, the cold night air chilling his throat. Thunder cracked in the sky above him. _Truly a night for a legendary battle, _he thought, taking a moment to admire the melodrama of it all.

Rain began to fall, gently tapping on the armour of the soldiers. The dogs started to bark and howl; they could sense the evil that lurked in the forest. Cailan noticed Duncan move to his side and felt more at ease, _How can I lose with the Wardens at my side?_

'The Wardens are ready. The plan will work your majesty.'

Cailan shot Duncan a smile. 'Of course it will Duncan. The blight ends here.' He placed a hand on Duncan's shoulder, 'They will sing songs about this day for the rest of time.' The king looked as if he could barely contain his glee.

The first darkspawn emerged from the trees. Its teeth exposed in an awful grin, it seemed to smell the air. Saliva ran down the beast's chin and dropped onto the dirt. Another darkspawn emerged, then another and another until the entire tree line was covered with them.

The atmosphere between the soldiers changed immediately. They began to mumble and whisper to each other. Fear spread amongst them like a virus. Suddenly fighting the darkspawn seemed less like a storybook adventure and a lot more like suicide. A few of the men at the back of the formation turned and ran, abandoning their comrades. _Deserters, _Duncan thought, _men with no honour._

A large, daunting darkspawn moved to the front of the hoard. Its armour had the Grey Warden emblem scored into it. The other darkspawn watched the general raise its large, ugly sword into the air. It screamed a battle cry that sent a shiver up Duncan's back. The darkspawn took their cue and charged, yelping and screeching at the army before them.

'Archers!' Cailan yelled. The long-bowmen dipped their arrows into the trough of tar on the ground by their feet. Then they plunged the arrows into one of the torches that had been placed around them. 'Aim!' The king cried and the archers nocked their arrows and drew back on their bowstrings. They waited for a moment, arms aching, ready to unleash death on their enemies. 'FIRE!' There was a gentle whoosh as the night sky filled with sparks, they seemed to hang for an instant before beginning their descent, silently falling like shooting stars.

The flaming arrows collided with the charging darkspawn. Some fell down dead immediately, the unlucky ones carried on moving with arrows embedded in them, screaming as they were slowly engulfed in flames.

'Release the hounds!' the king ordered. The dogs were unchained, and they roared across the battlefield. A wall of snapping teeth smashed into the darkspawn, slowing their advance.

Cailan and Duncan walked down from the battlements and stood in front of the battalion of Grey Wardens. The young king admired the stone faced warriors, each of them ready and capable of killing dozens of darkspawn. _Invincible._

He drew his sword and raised it in the air, the darkspawn baring down on him.

'Charge!'

6

Dante was frozen on the spot. Time seemed to slow down. He heard a sharp intake of breath, the young mage gasping if he had to guess. A harsh wind whipped around him, tugging at his armour. Most of the walls on the top floor of the tower had crumbled away, leaving them exposed to the rain and the night air. He felt a little bit of vertigo, he'd never been so high up. But it was not the height of the tower that was causing his palms to sweat.

In front of him was a huge creature, its massive back was turned to him. There was a heavy stink in the air, the smell of blood and faeces. Dante felt Alistair move to his side, sword drawn. The ogre straightened up, suddenly sensing the presence of the Wardens. The ogre turned to face him, the blood of its latest meal running from its mouth. Dante could feel his heart pounding inside his armour.

The ogre roared at them, so loud it almost toppled the mage off his feet. The deafening noise seemed to wake Dante up, he drew the Cousland blade and charged at the beast. He jumped as high and as far as he could, aiming for the neck. The ogre was quicker than Dante expected, swatting him from the air like a fly.

He hit the hard stone floor with a sickening crunch, Alistair flinched, sure that his friend was dead. Dane rushed forward, determined to protect his master. He sank his teeth into the ogres arm, it tried to in vain to shake the mabari loose. Alistair joined the fray, dodging to the left and right before sinking his blade into the ogre's flank. The creature howled in pain, swinging its massive arm, Dane came loose, sliding through the doorway and down the stairs. Alistair was also struck and knocked flat onto his back, the his head bouncing off of the stone floor. He was dazed and he couldn't feel his legs, the looming shape of the ogre lurched towards him. Alistair closed his eyes, awaiting the crushing blow he was sure was to come.

A ball of lightning struck the ogre in the side of the head, the huge beast stumbled. It turned its attention to the caster, the young mage. The mage cupped his hands, attempting to summon another ball of lightning, before he could cast the spell the ogre grabbed him in one gigantic paw and hurled him from the tower. There was a brief scream followed by a roar of triumph.

Dante rolled over, he was in severe pain. His armour had bent inwards and a sharp edge had cut into his abdomen. The cut was deep. He staggered to his feet, blood seeping down his leg. The ogre had its back to him so he took the opportunity, he charged and sank his blade into the creature's spine. It crumpled onto its belly, trying to push itself up. Dante hopped onto its back. He grabbed one of its horns and sank his blade into the neck, spilling an extraordinary amount of blood. The ogre made a gargling noise and then lay still.

Dante rolled off of the creature's body, panting, in pain and bleeding heavily. 'Alistair?' He could barely speak, 'Alistair are you alright?'

There was nothing but silence and Dante began to fear the worst.

'Lets not do that again.'

7

Dante and Alistair struggled to their feet, Alistair swayed slightly, he was still suffering from the blow to the head.

'What happened to the mage?' Dante asked, looking around.

'He fell.' Alistair walked over to the edge and looked down. 'Poor bastard. He saved my life and I don't even know what his name was.'

Dante realised with a pang of guilt that he didn't know either. 'He wont be forgotten Alistair. We'll ask around the mages after the battle, someone will know who he was and we'll make sure his sacrifice is honoured properly.'

Alistair rubbed the back of his head, feeling the dampness in his hair. He surveyed the landscape when his eyes fell on a sea of bodies in the distance. _The signal fire! _he thought, _Maker, we must have already missed our cue. _He jogged over to the tower's large fireplace, 'We've got to light the fire now!' Alistair called out to Dante, who was pivoting on the spot, looking around.

'Where's Dane?'

'We've got to get the signal fire burning, it might be too late already!'

'Where are you Dane? Come boy. Come on. Dane!'

'Please! I cant do this myself! We'll find him as soon as the fire's going.'

Dante stared at his friend, 'Alright.'

The two Wardens knelt before the hearth and it wasn't long before they'd kindled a roaring blaze that could be seen from miles around.

8

Teyrn Loghain stood in the trees, his army behind him. The sound of battle echoed around him. The clang of steel, the screams of the dying, the howls of victory, Loghain could hear it all, and he savoured every second of it. He reminisced about his time with Maric, two warriors battling side by side against a malicious occupying force. He missed those days sorely and Maker knew that Cailan wasn't half the king that Maric was. How could a man of Maric's greatness produce not a single worthy heir?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted. 'Teyrn Loghain!' The scout called out to him.

'Yes? What the report?'

'The strategy seems to be working sir, but the king's forces are becoming overwhelmed. What's happened to the signal fire?'

'That is not your concern. Return to your post.'

The scout seemed to hesitate for a moment before bowing and jogging away in the direction he came. Loghain surveyed the tower and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the young Wardens, they had seemed capable enough. The Teyrn smiled to himself, if something had happened to stop the Wardens from completing their task all the better, it made him less implicated in the defeat that was to come.

Just as these thoughts were crossing his mind, a huge ball of flame burst into the air from the summit of the tower. Loghain sighed, he supposed he'd have to go back to his first plan.

His first lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien approached, 'Sir, what are your orders?'

'Sound the retreat.'

'What…? I don't… Are you sure, sir?'

He turned to her, his eyes blazing, 'Do not question my orders, lieutenant.'

'Yes sir.' She regained her composure. 'Alright troops, move out.'

The soldiers followed her orders, marching away from the battle and leaving their king to fight for his life.

9

Duncan cut down another darkspawn. The combat skills that he had honed over many years were serving him well. He'd killed many darkspawn but there seemed to be an endless sea of the savage beasts before him. In his younger days he was capable of fighting for hours on end, but his age was beginning to take effect and his body was betraying him. His shoulders screamed with a burning pain, his legs were aching badly, threatening to give way at any moment.

_Soon. Loghain's men will be here soon, _he reassured himself. Another darkspawn charged him, holding its sword above its head. The darkspawn brought the grimy sword down with tremendous force, Duncan raised his own blade and blocked the blow, using his dagger to spill the creature's guts onto the dirt.

He scanned the battlefield for the king. He saw Cailan, the young man using his great-sword to decapitate any darkspawn in his path but he was getting fatigued, Duncan could see the strain in his face. He knew the king could not hold out much longer. _Where in the Maker's name are the reinforcements!_

He craned his neck upwards to the tower of Ishal, the signal fire was already burning. Again he examined the battlefield, Loghain's men nowhere to be seen.

A shiver crept up his spine, he sensed a large darkspawn, and it was close. He didn't have time to curse himself for being distracted before he was struck to the ground. It was an ogre, only the third one Duncan had ever seen in all his time as a Warden. The mammoth beast stormed across the field, snatching up the king in one claw. The creature held Cailan up and seemed to regard the squirming monarch for a moment. Cailan tried to free himself from the monster's clutches but found no success. He ogre squeezed, Cailan almost managed to scream before his ribs were crushed into his lungs. The king's head lulled back limply, blood running from his mouth and nose. The ogre tossed the shattered body to the ground, losing interest completely.

Duncan staggered to his feet, he moved to Cailan's body. _I have failed. _He stared at the ogre, his firsts clenched around the hilts of his blades. He let out a roar far more frightening than any darkspawn cry and changed. The ogre turned to him. Duncan leapt, driving both blades into the fiend's chest as far as they would go and twisting as hard as he could. The ogre squealed as it tumbled back, crashing to the earth.

Duncan freed his blade and rolled from the corpse. The darkspawn had won, every man he could see was being overpowered and slaughtered. The battle was lost. He collapsed to his knees, dropping his weapons. He had no fight left in him. Another darkspawn approached him, seeming almost to take its time, as if it were savouring the moment. The darkspawn was wearing Warden armour. It bent down and took Duncan's sword, levelling it at the old Warden's neck.

Duncan closed his eyes and thought of Alistair and Dante. It was up to them now. They had managed to light the signal fire, the blame for this defeat lay with Loghain, he was sure of it. Duncan was proud of his two young Wardens. He had taught them well and now it was up to them. They alone could stand against the darkness. Duncan braced himself for the blow. The sword came down.

The darkspawn general held the Warden commander's head in the air and let out a triumphant roar. This was not the first Warden it had killed, and it would kill many more. The Archdemon demanded it, and the general willingly obeyed.

10

The heat of the fire was intense, even on the exposed top of the tower. Sweat began to stand out on Dante's forehead. 'They'd have to be blind not to see this.' He said, wiping his brow. Alistair had once again made his way to the edge of the tower and was scanning the battlefield.

'Something's wrong.' He said without turning around.

'What do you mean?'

'There aren't enough men on the field. It doesn't look like Loghain's men have joined the battle.'

'Why not? They must have seen the signal fire.'

'I don't know, but something's gone wrong.'

'Then we need to find Dane and get down there.' Dante picked up his sword, wincing with the pain in his side when he bent down. He was still bleeding heavily and was beginning to feel light-headed. He followed Alistair to the top of the stairs.

Alistair was staring down the stairwell, he looked pale and his eyes were wide.

'Alistair?'

His hand shot out and grabbed Dante's arm, 'They're coming!'

The Wardens moved back, drawing their swords. Dante began to feel something, an uneasy sensation in his stomach. He could sense them, even if his Warden senses were not as in tune as Alistair's.

Footsteps echoed up the stairs, lots of them. There was a brief moment of calm before darkspawn began pouring through the open door, drawn to the Wardens like moths to a flame. Many of them had crude crossbows, which they fired without mercy. Dante was struck in the chest. He staggered backwards, swaying on his feet. Another arrow pierced his neck. He fell to the ground, black curtains drawing in on his field of vision. He seemed to fall out of himself, losing all sensation. The last thing he remembered was a large shape descending over him. _It's the Archdemon, _his delirious thoughts screamed, _the Archdemon has found me. Its going to take my soul. _That was the last thing he remembered.


	5. Chapter 4 This Will Change Everything

Chapter 4

This Will Change Everything

1

It seemed to her that he was getting stronger by the hour. Death was no longer an immediate threat, however the Warden was still unconscious. It had been two days since her mother had brought the two badly wounded warriors to their hut in the centre of the wilds. When she had first seen the two men she had thought them both severely wounded. Upon closer inspection she had come to see that Alistair's injuries we're not immediately life threatening, he had been hit with three arrows, but not of his vital organs had been hit. Dante on the other hand, had been in a far worse state. The arrow that had struck him in the chest had pierced one of his lungs, and another arrow had almost passed straight through his neck.

After the two of them had brought the injured Wardens into the hut, Morrigan's mother had begun her work. Alistair; she had stabilised without much trouble, but Morrigan doubted whether the second man would live through the night. She was wrong.

Even after the many years she had spent with her mother, watching her perform her magic, Morrigan was still surprised at the old witch's power. Alistair had regained consciousness the evening after, but had not spoken to either of the women. And whilst Dante had not yet returned from the fade, his recovery had been nothing short of miraculous.

Morrigan stirred the stew that was cooking in the grey stone fireplace. The smell swirled around the tiny hut. Dante, who was lay in the hut's only bed, began to shift, his brow furrowing. Morrigan abandoned her broth and moved over to the bed, which was too small for the young man, leaving his feet dangling over the edge. She sat on the stool beside the bed and observed while Dante appeared to settle down again. She sat and watched the Warden's stomach rhythmically raising and falling. His chest was bare and she could see each of his muscles moving hypnotically in unison. Dante's armour had been so badly dented that Morrigan's mother had had to cut him out of it, so now he was completely undressed, aside from the sheet that lay over his waist. _The Warden is truly a physical specimen, _she thought, _I wonder if the stories they tell about the Wardens are true? _She looked over her shoulder at the hut's door and supposed she could take a quick peek.

She leaned over and gently lifted the blanket. She smiled to herself, 'So, tis true.' She whispered.

'What's true?' A groggy voice asked. She dropped the sheet and almost jumped backwards. Dante's eyes were half open but unfocused, he had not fully gained consciousness. She sprang to her feet and walked over to a jug of cold water that stood on a little wooden table by the door. She poured some of the water into a clay cup took it to the young man, who had managed to sit up and was attempting to get his bearings.

'Here.' She handed him the cup.

He took a sip of water and coughed violently, 'Thank you.' He croaked.

2

'Thank you.' He croaked. It felt like his throat was full of glass. His thoughts were muddled, he couldn't think clearly. He let his eyes wander around the room, there was a small fireplace at one side of the room, filling the space with heat and a meaty smell that made his stomach growl. The walls were covered with hundreds of trinkets, brass statues, tiny bones and many were objects that Dante couldn't identify.

His eyes moved to Morrigan, who was stood by the bed, watching him closely. 'Where am I?' he asked, wincing at the pain in his throat.

'Back in the wilds of course.' She noted the confused frown on his face, 'I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten. You were brought here after the battle. Your wounds have been cleaned and bandaged. You are welcome by the way.'

'I would have said thank you if you'd given me chance.' He said with an easy smile.

'How does your memory fair?' She asked him, without much concern on her face.

He frowned and rubbed his head as he realised that he couldn't remember much at all. 'I remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…' he thought there was more than that, but his memories were a blur.

'Mother managed to save you and your friend. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well.'

His face drained of colour, 'Neither am I! This is terrible! What happened to the Grey Wardens? What happened to the King?'

'All dead.' She said nonchalantly, 'Of the Grey Wardens; you and your friend are all that remain, and even that was a close call.'

'Were my injuries that severe?' He put his hand to his throat and felt the raw flesh that stung to the touch.

'Yes but I expect you will be fine now.'

'And what about Alistair, is he alright?'

'He is… as you are. I suppose it would be unkind to say he's being childish.'

'Very unkind.' A thought suddenly hit him like a lightning bolt; Fergus. 'Were there no survivors besides us?'

'Only stragglers. And they are long gone.'

He supposed he couldn't realistically have expected better news, still, he worried for his brother. He threw his legs out of bed, his feet touching the warm wooden floor. He stretched, his entire body ached and he felt very weak. He was about to stand up and stretch his legs when he became suddenly aware of his lack of clothes.

He smiled, 'Where umm… where are my clothes?'

Morrigan disappeared around the corner, there was a brief pause before she stepped out again, a crumpled piece of metal in her hands. 'Your armour was badly damaged, I don't believe it can be repaired.' She handed him the piece of scrap metal that used to be his breastplate.

'Ah, I see.' He turned it over in his hands, and concluded that it wouldn't be worth saving, even if he had the means. 'Do you have anything else I could wear?'

She sighed, 'Just a moment.' She walked over to a chest of draws and began combing through the apparel stored in it.

'So why is it that your mother chose to save us?'

'I wonder at that myself.' She said, not stopping her search. 'But she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were only the one she could reach. I would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom.' She lifted a black shirt and a dark brown pair of trousers out of one of the drawers and handed them to him.

'Well I'm not sure about that, I happen to be nobility you know.' He put the bottoms on under the bed sheet, before getting up and slipping his arms into the sleeves of the shirt.

'I stand corrected.' The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

He finished buttoning up the shirt, a fairly good fit. 'Well, how do I look?' He asked, striking a pose.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him, and then turned her attention back to the stew she was making.

He turned and made for the door, but hesitated. He looked over at her, 'Thank you for helping me, Morrigan.'

She stopped stirring the broth. 'I… You are welcome, though mother did most of the work. I am no he healer.'

'That may be, but thanks all the same.' He opened the door and left.

3

Dante let the door of the hut close behind him. The bright light stung his eyes, he lifted his hand above his brow and shielded them from the sun. In a moment his eyes had adapted and he was able to see his surroundings. The trees of the Korcari wilds towered over him and there was a strong smell of sap in the air.

In front of him; sat on a large rock, his head in his hands, was Alistair. Morrigan's mother was stood beside the young Warden, her arms were folded. 'See?' She said, motioning in Dante's direction, 'Here is your fellow Grey Warden now.'

Alistair sprang to his feet, the a look of almost painful relief on his face. 'You're alive!' He rushed across to where Dante was stood and threw his arms around his fellow Warden, Dante's wound stung his side, but he let Alistair vent his emotion. 'I thought that you were dead for sure.' The young man struggled to hold back tears.

'You know me. It would take more than a few darkspawn to finish me off.' Dante joked, desperately trying to lift the mood.

Alistair released his grip and took a moment to compose himself. 'Duncan's dead. The Grey Wardens, even the King… they're all dead.' A tear ran down Alistair's face.

It was then that the situation really hit Dante. In the midst of his head injury and the surreal nature of the surroundings he had woken in; Dante hadn't had time to really stop and think about what had happened. And now that he really thought about it, it made him sick to his stomach. A strong sense of despair and loss descended over him, it was the same feeling he had when his parents were killed. He felt like he was going to collapse. He sat down on a large rock and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. 'Oh fuck.' Was all he could manage to say.

'If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead too, on top of that bloody tower.'

'Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad.' The old woman declared.

'I didn't mean… But what do we call you? You never told us your name.'

'Names are pretty, but useless.' Morrigan's mother approached them, 'The chastened folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do.'

Alistair's eyes widened. 'Flemeth? **The** Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds? From the legends?'

'Witch of the Wilds?' She chuckled to herself, he face wrinkling in an untrustworthy grin. 'I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?'

Dante had reigned in his emotions, there would be time for sadness later. 'I can't help but wonder; why did you save us?'

'Well… we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying once, can we? Someone has to deal with the darkspawn.' Neither of the Wardens said anything, and the only sound to be heard was the chirping of birds. 'It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the lands against the blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?'

Dante looked at Alistair, who gave a worried look in return. 'No.' Dante stated flatly, 'No, that hasn't changed.'

'But we were fighting the darkspawn!' Alistair blurted, 'The King had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this is?'

'The hearts of men hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the blight is an army he can defeat himself. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.'

'The Archdemon.' Alistair agreed.

'I feel like I might be missing out on something. I hear a lot about this Archdemon, but I'm not sure precisely what I'm dealing with.'

Flemeth rolled her eyes, as if explaining a simple fact to a child. 'It is said that; long ago, the Maker banished the old gods of the ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface of the world. An Archdemon is an old god awakened and tainted by the darkspawn. Believe that or not; history says it's a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history.'

Dante thought of the dreams he'd had in the days after his joining, he remember the creature he'd envisioned and how it had terrified him. He swallowed hard, as if he could almost taste his own fear, but he knew what he had to be done. 'Then I suppose we need to find this Archdemon…' He said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice, '…and kill it.'

'By ourselves!' Alistair almost screamed, 'No Grey Warden has ever defeated a blight without the army of a half dozen nations at his back! Not to mention… I don't know how to do it.'

'How to kill the Archdemon? Or how to raise an army?' Flemeth asked, 'It seems to me, that those are two different questions.' She moved towards Alistair, looking him right in the eye. 'Have the Wardens no allies these days?'

'I… I don't know. I don't know who we could ask.' Alistair began pacing back and forth in front of the hut. Then his eyes lit up as he hit on an idea. 'Perhaps Arl Eamon could aid us?'

'Arl Eamon? The Arl of Redcliffe? I suppose we could go to him, but do we know that he would help us?' Dante pondered.

'Arl Eamon is a good man, an honourable man, I'm certain he'd help us.' Alistair was pacing faster now, getting more wrapped up in his own thoughts, '…and he still has all his men. Yes, we could go to Redcliffe and appealed to him for help.'

'Keep in mind that Loghain was also a good and honourable man.' Dante tried to stop Alistair from getting carried away.

'Arl Eamon would never do that.' he said with certainty, he stopped pacing and ran one hand through his hair. 'But I don't know if his help would be enough.'

'Well surely there are other allies the Wardens can call on?'

'Yes! We've got the treaties! They swear elves, mages and dwarves into helping us during a blight.'

'I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… This sounds like a force capable of stopping a blight to me.' Flemeth said, approaching Dante. The smell of moss and rotten wood was overwhelming but Dante would not show it.

'So do you think we can really do this?' Alistair asked tentatively, 'Go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?'

'Well I doubt it'll be as easy as that but I don't see why not. Isn't this what Grey Wardens do?'

'So you are decided then? And ready to leave?' the old witch asked, giving Dante the distinct impression that they'd overstayed their welcome in the wilds.

'Yes, we're ready to go. And thank you for everything Flemeth.' Dante felt he was pushing his luck, but there was something else he needed to ask. 'Although we appreciate everything you've done for us, I have to ask; is there anything else you can do to help us?'

Flemeth sent Dante a glare that almost turned his blood to ice. They lingered in an uneasy silence until Flemeth let out an ugly, wheezing laugh. 'You have nerve, I'll give you that. And yes, I think there is yet one more thing I can offer you.'

At that moment, as if on cue, Morrigan peered around the hut's door. 'The stew is ready mother, will we have two guests for dinner? Or **none**?'

'Come here girl.' Flemeth commanded. Morrigan paused for a moment, and looked back into the hut, Dante guessed she was probably checking on her cooking. Apparently deciding that it was not worth angering her mother for the sake of one meal, Morrigan did as commanded, letting the crooked wooden door creek shut behind her.

'The Wardens are just about to leave… and you shall be joining them.'

Morrigan's expression turned from a smug smile to wide-eyed shock. 'Mother! This was not the… I didn't think we would…'

'Silence girl.' Flemeth raised he hand. 'You have been itching to get out of the wilds for some time. And there is the future to think about. You did not think that you'd stay here with me forever did you?'

'Well no but… this is not how I wanted this.'

Dante felt that he was being left out of something, and it was probably something he wanted to stay left out of. 'Well… umm… Thank you for the offer Flemeth, but when I asked if there was anything else you could do, I meant a sword or something. So if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us…'

'Nonsense.' Flemeth dismissed his objections, 'Morrigan is a powerful mage. You will need her to complete your quest.'

Dante sighed and looked at Alistair who shrugged, clearly as confused as Dante himself. _'You will need her to complete your quest.' I have no idea why I should believe that, but I __**do **__believe it,_ Dante thought.

'Alright, we'll take her with us.' Dante said, earning a glare from Alistair.

'Then I suggest you leave as soon as possible, there are still darkspawn in the wilds and you do not want to travel in the dark.' Flemeth said.

'Thank you again, Flemeth.' Dante gave a brief nod of the head and made for the hut, Alistair close behind him.

'Are you sure that it's a good idea to take her along just because her mother says so?' Alistair asked quietly enough so not to overheard by the two witches.

'Flemeth's right Alistair. We're going to need all the help we can get.'

'I understand that, but outside of the wilds; she's an apostate. Can we really afford to deal with the templars on top of everything else?'

'I know that it's a risk but… I don't know… there's just something about her. I think it would be a mistake not to accept their help.'

Alistair looked uncertain, 'Alright, if you really think this is what we should do.'

Dante smiled at his friend, 'Trust me…' he said, 'I'm a Grey Warden.'

4

They had left the hut at some point in the mid afternoon, Dante couldn't be sure of the exact time because the towering trees of the Korcari Wilds had blocked his view of the sun. By the time the sky was beginning to darken; the trio had made their way out of the depths of the forest and into the flat planes the Hinterlands. Eventually they found a cobbled road which they followed north. It was the witch who had taken the lead, and as she seemed to know where she was going, the Wardens willingly went along behind her.

Neither of the two men had spoken much since they had set off, there was silence between them, occasionally broken by the sound of barking dogs in the distance. The landscape was almost featureless, making distance hard to judge and adding to the bizarre sensation that they were walking through a dream. Tall grass walled either side of the road, obscuring their ability to survey the environment.

Dante felt very much like he did after escaping Highever with Duncan. All he could think about was what he had lost. Dane, his beloved mabari, had been left behind in the ruins of Ostagar. His family's sword, an heirloom that had been in his bloodline for generations, was gone. In fact the only thing he had left was his Grey Warden pendant, everything else he carried with him had been borrowed from Flemeth's hut. _So here I am again, _he thought, _I've lost everything… for a second time. I'm unarmed, wearing a stranger's clothes that are too tight, anything I had to connect me to my family has been lost. I have a fucking blight to defeat almost single handed. _His train of thought was broken by the sound of a barking dog, _Probably for the best, no sense wallowing in self-pity._

Dante turned to Alistair, whose eyes looked dark and sunken. He knew all too well what his friend was going through, having everyone close to you suddenly snatched away. He was about to attempt to broach the subject when Morrigan stopped, so abruptly that he almost walked straight into her.

'What is it?' Dante asked her.

'Something approaches.' She said, staring into the long grass.

'Darkspawn?' He asked, trying to use his Grey Warden senses. Although he couldn't feel any of the beasts in close proximity he didn't trust his the accuracy of his newly acquired skills. 'Alistair, can you sense any darkspawn?'

Alistair looked back at him blankly. 'What?'

'Darkspawn, Alistair! Can you sense any!' Dante almost screamed into his face.

'I… I don't know.' He struggled to concentrate, but Dante could see that his friend was exhausted and emotionally drained.

Something moved in the grass, and it was heading in their direction. Dante felt his stomach drop as he reached for the hilt of his sword and remembered that he was unarmed and unprotected. _I may be outnumber and overmatched, but I'm one of the last Grey Wardens and they will not take me easily. _He widened his stance and raised his guard. His plan was simple; disarm the first darkspawn and use whatever weapon it held to fight the rest. He hoped that Alistair and Morrigan would help him, but he would not count on either of them. He had no idea of Morrigan's abilities and he could not rely on Alistair in his current emotional state. He braced himself for whatever emerged from the grass. There was quiet for a moment and he tried to prepare himself for whatever revealed itself. Then, without warning, a huge mass of muscle and fur hurled itself from the overgrown foliage and knocked him flat on his back.

5

The creature was upon him, it was crushing him beneath its weight, it was breathing heavily on him, it was filling his nostrils with its stench, it was… licking his face. He came to realise that the stench of the beast was one he recognised. Dante pushed the thing off of him to get a better look at it.

'Dane?' he asked, sitting up.

The mabari barked in greeting.

'Maker! I cant believe it!' He grabbed the dog hugged it to him. 'I thought I'd lost you boy.'

Dane cocked his head and whimpered slightly. It appeared that the mabari could sense his masters overflowing emotions as it laid its head in Dante's lap.

_I was wrong, I still have some family left._

6

After the return of Dane, the mood of the group lifted noticeably. The next few hours of walking seemed to pass by smoothly for Dante. They followed the road until it joined the imperial highway, the largest road in Fereldan that had been there since the time of the Tevinter Imperium. Dante found the he was constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure Dane was with him, and each time he did the grinning dog was right behind him.

Alistair seemed brighter, but still not up to talking. He lingered at the back of the quartet, so Dante thought it better to leave him be for the time being. Morrigan continued to lead them from the front, keeping her eyes on the road ahead save for the occasional glance at the stars, judging their location.

The night sky was cloudless and in the pale light of the moon Dante thought Morrigan looked absolutely stunning. Once again he was reminded of the vow he made to himself; _no more being spoiled or acting without thinking, and no more chasing women. _He intended to keep his oath and he had no doubt that perusing Morrigan would only complicate a situation that looked to be complicated enough. _Still… there's no harm in just __**talking**__ to her. _His inner voice told him as he found himself speeding up, shortening the distance between them.

'Evening.' He said, drawing alongside her.

Her eyes addressed him from under lowered eyebrows, but she said nothing.

Never, **ever**, had he had trouble talking to a girl; but there was something about Morrigan that left him unable to utter anything coherent, let alone witty.

'So… umm… where are we going exactly?'

'Lothering.'

'Alright.' He scratched his head and looked around. 'What exactly is Lothering?'

She sighed, 'A small trading town on the imperial highway, completely unremarkable in almost every way.'

'Then why visit it at all?'

'I'm leading us there because travellers frequent the local tavern and it might be a good place to get information from around Fereldan.'

'Fair enough then. Have you ever been there before?'

'A few times in my adolescence, but I have never stayed there long, a local Chantrey tends to cause a settlement to be abnormally intolerant.'

'I see…'

7

They camped for the night in a small grove of trees just next to the imperial highway. They picked out a spot where they could see who was travelling on the road before they themselves could be seen. The night was warm so they only needed a small fire, Alistair had suggested this was for the best because a large blaze would only attract attention.

They sat around the small fire, the conversation had been fractured all night, but had now lulled to a complete stop. Dante lay on the ground, his head resting on a small cushion of moss. Dane was curled up at Dante's side, his eyes closed but his ears constantly alert. Morrigan sat alone, listening to the various wildlife she could hear on the wind. It was obvious that she wasn't comfortable in the company of people. Alistair had seated himself next to the fire and preceded to skin a rabbit that Dane had caught earlier. It would be nice to get something to eat, but there wouldn't be much to go around.

'So, Morrigan, do you have any skills?' Alistair asked without much genuine interest.

Morrigan gave him a look that was as cold as ice. Dante was sure that she wouldn't answer, but to his surprise, she did.

'I have a good knowledge of ancient lore, I am able to read in several languages, my

skill with magic is far above average, I can…'

'Can you cook?' Alistair interrupted.

Dante sat up, he thought that Alistair might be straying into dangerous territory and wanted to be ready to quash any serious disagreement that might arise.

Morrigan seemed to tense up, her eyes narrowed but she never took them off of Alistair. It was as if she were trying to set him alight with her glare, which for all Dante knew; she could do. After what had felt like an hour Morrigan replied, 'I… can cook, yes.'

Dante jumped in before Alistair's next inflammatory remark. 'Excellent. Then you can substitute for Alistair!'

Alistair looked at him, then smiled 'Right… My cooking will kill us. That's all I meant.'

'I also know at least 15 different poisons that grow right here in Fereldan. Not that I would suggest that that's at all related to my cooking.'

Dante rolled over and closed his eyes, smiling to himself. _If it carries on like this, its likely to be an interesting trip._

8

'Lothering.' She gestured towards the huddle of rundown shacks and hovels.

'Looks like a shit-hole to me.' Dante didn't know what he'd expected, but he'd expected more than this.

From their vantage point on the bridge; they could see the entire town. The small houses were clearly neglected, boxes and crates littered the streets. A small stream ran through the centre of the settlement. _Looks like a nice place for a swim._ But then he saw the open sewers spilling into the river and decided against it. On the other side of the watercourse was an equally dilapidated, yet much larger building. _I would bet that that is the tavern. _In fact, the only building in the town that looked in decent condition was the Chantry. _Typical._

They set off along the bridge that would lead them into the settlement, they were tired and hungry, so they didn't pay a lot of attention to the group of men loitering directly in their path.

Alistair surveyed the view, 'Well, Lothering… pretty as a painting.'

'Not any painting I'd hang on my wall.' Dante smiled at Alistair, it was good to see his friend in a better mood.

Morrigan cast a chilly glance over at Alistair. 'So… finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade seem like too much trouble after all?'

'Do you really have no idea?' Alistair frowned, 'Have you never lost anyone close to you? What would you do if your mother died?'

She was silent for a brief pause, 'Before or after I stopped laughing?'

The look of bewilderment on Alistair's face made Dante snort with laughter.

'Riiiight… very creepy.'

Dante stifled a little more laughter, 'I have to say Alistair; you have been quiet. Not that I don't understand why.'

'Yes, I know, I've just thinking.'

'No wonder it took so long.' Morrigan's tongue cracked like a whip.

Alistair winced 'So this is where we're shocked to find out that you've never had a friend your whole life?'

'I can be friendly when I desire, alas wishing to be more intelligent does not make it so.'

It appeared that Alistair realised that this was a duel of whit that he wouldn't be able to win. He sighed, 'Anyway… I wanted to ask you Dante; what's our next move?'

In truth, Dante had been pondering the same idea. 'Well, we should try to use these treaties, I assume?'

'I agree. Have you had chance to look at them?'

'There wasn't a lot else to do while I was on watch.'

'So? What did you think? We have treaties for the elves, the dwarves, and the mages. And I'm sure Arl Eamon will help us, I think maybe we could even go to him first? But its up to you.'

'Why? Why is all this left up to me?'

'I don't know. I'll do whatever you decide.'

'That is hardly surprising, I've known more spine in a worm.' Morrigan brutally interjected without slowing her pace.

'Well Morrigan, do you have an idea about what we should do next?' Dante was genuinely interested in the witch's opinion of the situation.

She took a second to contemplate her answer, 'I would suggest going after your enemy directly. Find this man Loghain and kill him. You can then conduct the rest of your business with the treaties in relative safety.'

Alistair snorted, 'Yea, I mean, its not like he wouldn't expect us to go after him. Or that he has an entire army against the three of us. Or that…'

Morrigan held up her hand, she had heard enough. 'I was asked my opinion and I gave it. If you wish to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we shall never devise a plan.'

'Alright, alright, I understand your point Morrigan, but a direct assault on Loghain wouldn't be the smartest course of action.' Dante had made up his mind and he intended to be decisive. 'We're going to see Eamon first. He knew my father and…'

Dante's train of thought was interrupted by the sight of several well armed men walking towards his party. He was suddenly painfully aware of his surroundings and furious with himself for not seeing the signs sooner. The approaching men already had their hands on the hilts of their weapons, clearly ready for a fight. Crimson stains stood out on their armour as well as on the ground. _Bandits, _Dante said to himself. It appeared that Alistair and Morrigan had the same thoughts as they both went silent and moved to Dante's back.

Dante closed his hands into tight fists and heard is knuckles crack softly. He didn't want a fight, his opponents were better equipped and more numerous, but if it came down to it; he would kill them all without a second thought.

One of the bandits stepped forward, he was clearly their leader, or at least the one intelligent enough to present their demands. He confidently swaggered over to them, using one hand to correct his quiff. 'Come along boys, more travellers to attend to.' He called out to his fellows in a rather upmarket accent, rallying them around him.

A second man moved to Quiff's flank, his maul already drawn and resting on his shoulders. His eyes addressed Morrigan from under a large Neanderthal brow. 'These ones don't look like the other ones. Maybe we should just let 'em pass?' His voice was slow and heavy, unsurprising considering the man's jaw looked thick enough to hammer nails with.

'Highwaymen.' Alistair whispered in Dante's ear, 'How do we handle this?'

Morrigan had her own opinion on the situation, which she put forward loudly and without concern of being overheard. 'They are foolish to get in our way. I say; teach them a lesson.'

'I wouldn't advise that.' Quiff said with a cocky grin and gestured to the dried blood on the cobbles. 'But for a mere ten silvers you are free to move on.'

Dante raised an eyebrow, his patience was running short and he was beginning to feel like picking a fight. 'So you're toll collectors then?'

'Yes indeed, my friend. For imperial highway, awful mess isn't it?'

'I cant say you pitch is particularly persuasive. In fact I'm beginning to doubt that you're really toll collectors at all.' Dante smiled at the men.

The bandits all seemed confused. Worried glances were exchanged, but Quiff never lost his cool. 'Not much gets passed you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you pay anyway.'

Dante felt that old anger beginning to rise in his stomach. 'We're not paying.'

'Well I cant say that I'm pleased to hear that.' He gestured to the man behind him, 'Robert.'

The man with the thick jaw stepped forward, 'Right. We'll ransack your corpses then.' He said.

'You can certainly try.' Dante widened his stance, ready for the attack that was to come.

'Last chance.' Quiff said, drawing his blade.

Dante's eyes widened, he recognised the strong sword with the ornate hilt that was being pointed at him. It was Fergus's sword.

Rage bubbled up and quickly overwhelmed him. The world faded to black and white, only he and this man who somehow had gotten hold of his brother's beloved sword remained. Quiff must have seen something in Dante's eyes as his cocky smile faltered.

Dante reached out, quick as a flash, and grabbed Quiff's wrist. He saw the fear on the man's face as his iron grip clamped down. Dante yanked the arm and twisted it violently. He heard the bone snap and Quiff let out a high pitch squeal of agony.

The thick jawed man who had been referred to as Robert made a move to stop Dante. Morrigan unleashed a ball of lightning. It struck Robert squarely in the face, spasms wracked is body and he fell awkwardly. A third man attempted to draw his sword but Alistair was upon him before he could act. Alistair disarmed the man with ease before flipping him over the side of the bridge, sending him spinning to the ground below. Dane leaped forward, growling ferociously at the few men who were left, their desire to fight had disappeared.

Quiff was on his knees and was whimpering in pain. Dante took the sword from his limp hand and held it up. 'Where did you get this?' Dante growled at the sobbing man.

'I… I cant remember.' He stuttered between sharp breaths.

'You'll remember if you want to keep your head.' Dante raised the blade.

'NO! No! Please. If you want the sword, you can have it! Just take it!'

'Its not yours to give.' He said flatly, 'Now I will ask once more, and if you don't tell me what I want to know; you lose an arm. Where did you find this sword?'

'I cant remember, I SWEAR!'

Dante pushed the point of the blade into his shoulder, piercing the flesh.

'Alright! Alright! It was a chastened!'

'What?'

'Some chastened barbarian came through here with dozens of blades, that one was among them. I don't know where he got them from though, honest.'

'Where is this chastened now?'

'He…' Quiff seemed nervous to say, he threw a glance over his shoulder, hoping for help from one of his companions, but none of them stepped forward. 'He wouldn't give us the swords so…'

'What!' Dante yelled, wrenching the already shattered wrist. Quiff screamed with the pain but Dante applied more pressure. This could be his only chance at finding Fergus and he would not let it slip through his fingers.

'We killed him!' Quiff screeched. Dante let go and the wounded bandit slumped to the floor. Dante stood dead still. All his hopes of finding Fergus had faded.

'Leave everything you've stolen and go.' He commanded.

It appeared that the bandits didn't need to be told twice, two of them scooped up their battered leader in their arms. Quiff was unconscious, Dante doubted that he'd live long with those injuries, and that was probably for the best.

The four companions watched the bandits hurry away down the imperial highway and into the distance. Once they were out of sight the group continued their trek toward Lothering. Alistair gave his friend a worried glance, 'Are you alright?' he asked.

'Fine.' Dante barely responded, he just wanted to get to town and see what Lothering had to offer.


	6. Chapter 5 Paths Cross In Lothering

Chapter 5

Paths Cross In Lothering

1

If Dante had thought Lothering a cesspool from his vantage point on the bridge; seeing it up close only confirmed the thought in his mind. The ground, which may have once been a hard dirt road, had been trampled into a muddy bog by a combination of the poor weather and the masses of people who had passed through the small trading town.

The four companions stood in the middle of a bustling crowd. After their confrontation with the bandits they had made their way down from the bridge and walked into the middle of a makeshift bazaar . Opportunistic merchants had set up small stalls and were flogging their wares at extortionate prices to the travellers who had no choice but to buy them.

Dante observed the people who scurried around him and thought of ants fleeing a burning nest. Everyone was trying to get as far north as they possibly could before the darkspawn came pouring out of the wilds. He could feel their desperation and their fear, it hung in the air like a stench. Dante was well aware that people who were scared were unpredictable and prone to rash actions and he suddenly wanted to get out of Lothering as soon as he possibly could.

'So Morrigan.' He turned to the witch, having to raise his voice above the cacophony around them, 'How do we get to the tavern from here?'

'Follow me.' She said simply as she moved off into the crowd. Dante went along behind her as closely as he could, but the crowd were making it difficult for him to keep her in sight. He watched Morrigan move through the mass of bodies with ease; never colliding or even brushing against another individual. He could not say the same about himself however as it seemed that he couldn't take a single step without bumping into somebody.

Morrigan was getting further ahead of him. He began to speed up when there was a loud crash. Dante whipped his head around to find the cause of the noise, just as two men tumbled to the ground, cursing and punching each other while they slid around in the mud. He assumed that the cause of the argument was probably something to do with the price of supplies and decided that it wasn't worth the trouble of getting involved.

He turned his attention to Morrigan again, but as his eyes scanned the bustling mass of people he realised that he couldn't see her. He looked back for Alistair or Dane and realised that he had lost them as well. _Excellent, _he thought. _I suppose I should start by making my way out of this crowd. _

'...Grey Wardens!' His ears caught two words from a raspy voice that rang out above the humdrum. Dante stopped in his tracks and listened, putting a hand on the hilt of Fergus's sword which he had secured in his belt. Had he been addressed directly? He didn't think so. The voice had sounded far away and he had no armour nor anything else to identify him as a Warden. He listened for that voice again and it wasn't long before it rang out a second time. 'I will ask you once more; have you seen two Grey Wardens?' Dante followed the voice to a stall selling meat, the vendor of the stall was surrounded by soldiers, the voice seemed to belong to their commander who had hold of the merchant by his collars.

'I haven't seen them sir, honest.' The merchant pleaded.

The commander released the smaller man and seemed to calm, 'Alright, I believe you. If you see them however; it must be reported immediately. Do you understand?'

'Y... yes sir...' The smaller man replied.

The commander turned to the crowd, 'That goes for all of you!' He yelled, many people turning their heads toward him, 'The Grey Wardens are traitors to Fereldan and guilty of regicide. Teyrn Loghain has decreed that any sightings must be reported immediately; under penalty of death.' And with that the commander turned on the spot and marched away, dutifully followed by his subordinates.

The small audience to the commander's speech began to go back to their business: but one figure didn't budge. _Traitors to Fereldan? _Dante's hands had clenched into fists and he was shaking with rage. _That coward runs from the battle, murders his king and his own men and then insults the memory of men who have died for this country by labelling them as __**traitors**__! I'll __**kill **__that heartless bastard! I'll tear his throat out with my bare hands! I'll crush his..._

A hand gripped Dante's arm, 'Excuse...'

Dante moved as fast as lightning; grabbing the intruding arm and pulling his assailant to the ground. He knelt on the the stranger's chest and found himself looking into the face of a man who couldn't have been long out of his teens. Dark, intelligent eyes looked back at him from under black curls.

'Whoa! Whoa there... Easy my friend. I didn't mean to startle you.' The young man protested.

Dante loosened his grip slightly, 'What business do you have with me?'

'Well that depends, am I correct in thinking that you were at the battle at Ostagar?'

'I... was.' He didn't want to give away his identity as a Warden but he saw honesty in the stranger's face.

'Excellent, I knew you were a fighting man the moment I saw you. Then perhaps you can help me. But first, will you be a good chap and get off my chest?'

Dante considered for a moment before standing up and helping the young man to his feet.

'Well that's more comfortable, is it not?' The young man said brushing the dirt off of his long coat, 'The name's Clayton Hawke by the way, just Hawke to my friends.' He said with an easy smile.

'Dante.' He nodded, 'So what can I help you with Clayton Hawke?'

'My brother, Carver. He was a soldier with the king's army. My family and I are preparing to leave Lothering before the darkspawn arrive but I can't in all conscience leave before I know what's happened to him. I don't suppose you happen to know of any other survivors who made it out of Ostagar after the battle? He's tall and broad, and he looks like me. Only without my amazing cheekbones or dazzling smile of course. Those are one of a kind.'

Dante frowned, a missing brother? He knew the feeling, 'Unfortunately not. My companions and I are the only survivors I know of.'

Hawke shrugged, 'The answer I was expecting. Thank you for your help anyway.'

'So what do you plan to do now?'

'I expect my family and I will wait for Carver as long as we can. If he's alive he'll make it back here, hopefully before the darkspawn do or there might not be much to make it back to.'

'Well, best of luck to you then.' Dante held his hand out and Hawke shook it warmly.

'May our paths cross again.' Hawke said before turning and disappearing in the crowd.

Dante watched the young man as he wandered off and couldn't help but wonder what the future would hold for him and if they ever would meet again.

Little did he know that the next time they would meet; they would be locked in lethal combat.

2

It didn't take Dante long to move out of the mass of people, and once out in the open he quickly located his companions. Alistair and Morrigan were stood outside a row of small houses where it was much less busy, Dane lying at their feet. The mabari barked in glee at the sight of his master. 'Well well...' Morrigan raised an eyebrow in his direction, 'How does one manage to get lost so easily?'

Dante ignored the remark, he had much on his mind. 'We may have a problem.' He uttered as he drew close to them.

Alistair sighed, 'Another one?'

'Apparently Loghain has declared the Wardens traitors to Fereldan, he's using the order as a scapegoat for Ostagar.'

'What?' Alistair's mouth hung agape.

'I heard a soldier say that any Warden sightings have to be reported to Loghain's men, so we cannot afford to draw any attention to ourselves while we're here.'

'Why cant we just leave? Lothering obviously isn't safe.'

'The roads aren't safe either Alistair.' Dante stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, 'We need decent armour and weapons.'

'Surely one of the merchants will be able to accommodate our needs?' Morrigan interjected.

'They aren't just giving their stuff away. And unless you've got a few sovereigns hidden in that outfit we haven't got two coppers to rub together.' Alistair said.

'You're right. All the gold I took when I left my estate is still in my tent at Ostagar.'

'So in summary...' Morrigan began, 'We need to leave this place, but to leave we need equipment, but to get equipment we need gold. So how does one usually acquire gold?'

'You work for it.' Alistair answered.

'So can we not do that?'

For a moment they stood in silence, considering the proposal. Alistair looked at Dante, 'Chanter's board?' he asked.

'Chanter's board.' He answered.

3

'And Eileen spoke unto the masses! My hearth is yours! My bread is yours! My life is yours! For all are equal who walk in the light of the Maker!'

Dante peered over the top of the parchment he was reading. 'Yes, yes, thank you brother.' He said to the chanter. He tacked the parchment back onto the chanter's board. Somebody wanted a tree cutting down on their land, nothing to suit talents of his company nor anything close to the kind of payment they needed. Alistair was also studying the board, while Morrigan stood with her back to it; looking completely disinterested. 'Have you found anything of interest, Alistair?' Dante asked.

'Actually yes.' He handed Dante another sheet of parchment.

'Bandit slaying?' Dante raised an eyebrow, 'Sounds perfect.'

'Blessed are the peacekeepers! Champions of the just!' The chanter called out to no one in particular.

'Indeed.' Dante nodded without much notice, reading the details of the contract.

Morrigan spun around, apparently annoyed by the priests constant outbursts. 'Just what exactly is this man babbling about?' she demanded.

'He's a chanter.' Said Alistair in a slightly condescending tone.

'Do you mean that he is touched in the head?' She peered at the man in traditional golden chantry robes.

Dante snorted a laugh. 'No. A chanter is a priest who takes a vow meaning he may only recite chant of light and nothing else.'

Morrigan look deeply troubled by the idea. To her the idea of living one's life totally devoted to a none existent god seemed like a less favourable option to death. She stared straight into the priest's eyes. 'Your Maker is an illusion and you spend your life as a servant to a figment of someone else's imagination.' She waited for a response but none came, in fact it appeared that the man hadn't even heard her. He just stood there; expressionless and still as a statue.

Dante tucked the parchment into his trouser pocket, claiming the job written on it. 'He wont answer you.'

'We used to throw pebbles at the chanter in Redcliffe. Never even budged.' Alistair recalled.

'Yes well, we had better get moving.' Dante moved off past the chanter, and started for the centre of town. 'Oh but one thing...' he stopped, 'Chantersayswhat?'

'What?'

'Never fails.' Dante smiled.

Alistair laughed as they headed away, even Morrigan chuckled quietly, leaving the chanter in stunned silence.

'W... what...What hath man's sin wrought.'

4

As they crossed the bridge into the centre of Lothering, the sun was just about to dip under the horizon. Orange light danced across the slowly moving water, making it appear black and opaque. Long shadows from the dilapidated houses decorated the street. Ivy covered the dry stone wall by the road and the occasional flower had grown through the cracks in the cobbled street. The whole image could have been quite beautiful if not for the smell of pig shit wafting through the air.

One the other side of the bridge was a row of what looked like giant, steel birdcages; usually reserved for holding thieves or bandits. Each was tall enough to allow you to stand while being slender enough to deny you the comfort of sitting, obviously designed to make a long stay in one as unpleasant as possible. Morrigan shivered at the sight of them, she hated the very idea of being trapped, unable to run or climb or fly whenever the feeling took her. Dane had a similar reaction, having hated his cage at Highever ever since he was a puppy. Tonight they all stood empty, save one.

In the final cage on the row stood a pale giant, its head slightly bowed, pressed against the curved roof of its enclosure. The thing was dressed in rags, its white skin criss-crossed with faded pink scars. Purple eyes stared at Dante from behind the bars. The group slowed their pace, gawking open mouthed at the prisoner.

The giant snarled, 'Why do you stare? You are not my captors, and I will not amuse you any more than I amused the other humans. Leave me in peace.' The behemoth in the cage spoke slowly, purposefully, in a monotone.

Dante's curiosity had been peaked, 'You are a prisoner?' he asked, drawing closer to the cage, 'Who put you in here?'

'I am in a cage, am I not? I was placed here by your chantry. My name is Sten of the Beresaad.'

_The __**Beresaad**__? _'You are a Qunari then?' Dante stopped, staying out of grabbing range, though the creature seemed to be paying little interest.

'Yes.'

Aldous had taught Dante a little about the Qunari as a child, and the man in front of him was not what he'd expected. 'I thought Qunari had horns?'

'Are all humans born able to see? Or hear? Or hold a tune?'

Dante considered, 'True enough. In any case; I am pleased to meet you.'

'You mock me...' the Qunari said without even a flicker of anger, '...or you show manners that I have not come to expect in your lands.' He leaned back against his metal cell. 'Though it matters little now, I will die soon enough.'

_Left defenceless in a cage? An easy meal for the darkspawn. Surely not an ethical punishment. What could this Qunari have done to deserve such a fate?_

'This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn.' Morrigan said from over his shoulder, seemingly reading his thoughts. 'Even if you cannot see a use for him: I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone.'

Alistair turned slowly, eyebrows raised. 'Mercy?' He asked in disbelief, 'I wouldn't have expected that from you.'

'I would also suggest that Alistair take his place.'

'Yes... that's what I would have expected.'

Sten had apparently grown bored of their bickering. 'I suggest you leave me to my fate.'

'Tell me Sten... Why have they imprisoned you?' Dante asked, moving little closer still.

'Your revered mother found me guilty of murder.'

'And are you guilty?'

'Are you asking whether I did the deed or whether I feel remorse? Either way it is irrelevant: whatever I feel, whatever I have done, my life is forfeit now.' He said matter-of-factly.

'Who did you murder?' Alistair asked quietly, from the back of the group.

'The people of a farm-hold. Eight humans. Including the children.'

_Maker. He speaks so calmly about murdering children? Does he even care? Does he feel anything? And yet... _Dante looked again at the scars across the Qunari's enormous body. _He is obviously a veteran warrior. We will need battle hardened men. There is no harm in considering it. _'Do you regret what you did? Do you seek atonement?'

'Death will be my atonement.'

'There are other ways to redeem yourself.' Dante moved closer to the bars.

'Perhaps.' The Qunari moved forward as well, the two of the now standing nose to nose. 'What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?'

Nether man flinched.

'Help me defend the land against blight.'

Sten looked surprised, the first hint of emotion Dante had seen on that ghostly face. 'The blight? You are a Grey Warden then?'

'I am.'

'Surprising.' The Qunari's face went blank once more, betraying no more emotion. 'My people have heard legends of your order's strength and skill.' Sten looked him over. 'Though I suppose not every legend is true.'

'Charming... Could the revered mother be persuaded to let you free?'

Sten shrugged, 'If you told her that the Grey Wardens needed my assistance. Besides, this seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here.'

'I promise nothing Sten.'

'I ask for nothing.'

'I have other business to attend to. So I shall leave you for now.'

'Farewell then.'

Dante turned and walked away from the cage and its inhabitant, Morrigan and Alistair at his heels. Dante needed to think, and as the sun had almost completely vanished from sight, Dante set his sights on the building he assumed was the tavern.

In the end it was Morrigan who spoke first. 'A repentant man left to be torn to pieces by darkspawn. A good example of chantry justice, no?'

'He wasn't locked up for no good reason! He's a self-confessed murderer!' Alistair looked to his leader, 'You're not seriously considering taking him with us are you?'

'I... I don't know Alistair. But we need skilled help.'

5

Dante took another swig of his ale, savouring the bitter taste as it flowed down his throat. He belched and pushed his plate away, full and contented. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He'd follow Morrigan and Alistair to the room soon, he was extremely tired and needed to be well rested for the following day. The room and their meals had been complimentary; a gift from the tavern keeper who's daughter had been assaulted by bandits that the group had driven off.

A bard a few tables over strummed a lute softly, filling the air with sombre tones. The few patrons who remained at this late hour were mostly huddled round the fireplace. They were desperate looking men, ragged and dirty, like most people passing through Lothering these days. There were two more refugees sleeping on the floor and a chantry sister sat reading in the corner.

He felt Dane shift by his feet. His faithful mabari was sleeping soundly under the table, dreaming about whatever war-hounds dream about.

What to do about Sten? The question of the Qunari was weighing heavily on his mind. He went over the argument over and over again in his head.

_I need all the help I can get._

_But how can I trust him?_

_How can I trust any of them?_

_But this one's a murderer._

_The Warden's have always taken recruits with troubled pasts._

_Even a man who has killed in cold blood?_

_They took you didn't they? Duncan must have known why you had to flee Fereldan all those years ago._

_But it was never my intention to kill him._

_But you **did** kill him._

The door swung open and Dante's heart jumped, his train of thought broken. Loghain's soldiers, those he had seen in the market earlier, walked through the door. There were four of them in total. The commander lead the way to the bar, ordering drinks for his men. Dante recognised his scarred and brutish looks as well as the receded grey hair. Just behind him was a redwood of a man, tall and thickset with fists like house-bricks, clad in iron armour that looked battle tested an axe hung on his back. The third man was tall and skinny, his face was a mess of acne scars and the marks of sun damage, yet he had the look of a man who had seen combat. The same could not be said of the final soldier who looked as if he could still be in his teens.

The commander happened to glance in his direction, and then turned back to the bar. Dante kept a close eye on his face hoping not to see any sign of recognition. The commander frowned; Dante's heart raced. He reached for his sword and cursed himself for leaving it in the room. Dante snaked his hand onto the table and took the weapon that was closest to hand: the fork he had used to eat his supper. He concealed the weapon under the large oak table he sat behind. Now the commander was staring right at him.

_I must try to talk my way out of this but if things begin to go badly I have to rush them as fast and as brutally as I can. They wont expect me to attack them, plus I have an added advantage. _Dane's sleeping weight on his feet was now a huge comfort.

The commander addressed his men, and now they were all looking at him. _Do I have time to call Morrigan and Alistair? No, its too late. Why the __**fuck**__ didn't I bring my sword with me?_

They were walking over now, hands already on their weapons. The commander stopped on the other side of Dante's table, grinning confidently, showing dirty teeth. 'Well well, look what we have here men.' He spoke with a thick southern Fereldan accent. 'We must be blessed!'

The man with the scars laughed, contorting his face horribly, 'Didn't we spend all day asking about a fellow by this very description? And they said they hadn't seen him.'

'Seems were lied to.' The commander growled.

The redwood clenched his fists, squared his shoulders and advanced. The youngest soldier also drew closer, flanking him.

'Gentlemen! There is no need for trouble.' Every head snapped round to see a chantry sister approaching. She was young and beautiful, with shoulder length red hair which even in the low light of the tavern still seemed to shine. She drew close to the commander. 'Surely this is just another lost soul in search of sanctuary.'

'He's more that that. He's a traitor.' The commander spat. Dante's hand gripped the fork even harder. 'Now stay out of our way sister. If you attempt protect an enemy of Teyrn you'll get the same.'

Dane had woken, and was now standing under the table, Dante knew the mabari wouldn't attack without his command. Dante leaned onto the table using his free hand to grip the table's edge, ready to unleash his dog at a moments notice. 'I don't need help miss, please stand back.' Dante said politely.

The sister looked at the soldiers, 'You don't need protection?'

'These men have obviously made a mistake and do not wish to blindly follow a command that may get them hurt.' He smiled at them.

The youngest soldier looked a little unsure, but the others remained steadfast. 'I am not blind. I was at Ostagar: the Teyrn saved us from Grey Warden treachery. I follow him gladly.' The commander announced.

'Well sister, it sounds as if they wont leave without a fight. If that is the case; then I'm happy to oblige.'

'Enough talk!' The commander roared, very unused to being defied. 'Take the Warden into custody! And the sister! And anyone else who gets in the way.'

The scarred man and the redwood stepped forward. 'Right, lets take this nice and easy.' The scarred man said drawing his sword, 'If you don't resist then you wont get hu...'

Dante flipped the table over, it hit the youngest soldier and sent him sprawling. Dane pounced, teeth bared and growling like a demon. The scarred man let out a terrified scream as Dane's powerful jaws clamped around his throat.

The redwood reached up to grab the huge axe strapped to his back, but Dante had already leapt up to his feet. He slammed into the redwood; knocking him of balance and jammed the fork into his eye as hard as he could. The huge man screamed and flailed uselessly as Dante pushed the fork in harder. The screaming stopped and his body spasmed.

The youngest soldier had made it back to his feet and charged at Dante, short sword swinging wildly. Dante timed a swing, grabbing the boys wrist with one hand and the back of the kid's head with the other, spinning him around and slamming his face into the edge of the upturned table. The kid flopped to the floor, teeth broken and jaw hanging uselessly.

The commander was the last soldier left standing, he had grabbed the chantry sister and was using her as a human shield. 'STOP! Stop!' he commanded, 'Take another step and I slit the girl's throat from ear to ear!'

The chantry sister moved suddenly, spinning around and twisting the commander's arm into an unnatural position. He went to his knees, the sister threw a kick that landed heavily on his jaw. He slumped forward, eyes rolling, stunned.

Dante was surprised. A veteran soldier completely incapacitated by a cloistered sister? Interesting. The commander stirred. Dante flipped him over with his foot and then knelt on his chest. Dante drew a long, jagged knife from the commander's belt and then held it to his throat.

'Alright, alright, I surrender.'

The chantry sister placed a hand on Dante's shoulder. 'Good, he's learned his lesson and we can all stop fighting now.'

Dante snarled, 'He deserves no mercy!'

'No, please!' He flinched.

'He has surrendered. He was no match for you, let him be.'

'He was trying to have me executed!'

'But he failed and I do not wish death on anyone.' She spoke calmly, softly, and her hand on his shoulder was oddly calming.

Dante lowered the knife, 'Then he can take a message to Loghain.'

'Anything.' The commander grovelled.

Dante thought for a moment, 'The Grey Wardens know what really happened and we shall see justice done.'

Dante got up, releasing the wounded soldier. 'I'll tell him.'

They watched the disgraced commander limp away. Dante walked over to the bar and leaned there, everyone in the tavern was looking right at him, open mouthed. The chantry sister pulled up a stool and sat next to him. Dante waved the tavern keeper over, he was a short fat man with a large curved moustache, he looked pale and afraid. _Stab one man in the eye with a fork and suddenly everyone's frightened of you. _'Ale.' Dante said simply, he'd been tired before the fight but with the adrenaline dump he was positively exhausted.

A foaming mug of ale was thrust in front of him. He took a swig and felt better.

He looked at Leliana, she had just been silently watching him. 'I apologise for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and watch that kind of injustice.' She said.

'It's quite alright.' he replied. She had a strong Orlesian accent, it was exotic, he liked it. 'I have to ask; where does a sister learn to fight like that?'

She shrugged, 'I wasn't born in the chantry, you know. Many of us have had more colourful lives before joining the order. Allow me to introduce myself; I'm Leliana, one of the chantry's Lay Sisters. Or I was.'

Dante extended a hand, 'Dante, a pleasure.'

'You said to that man that you were a Grey Warden? This will mean that you will be fighting darkspawn, no? I know after what happened here you need all help you can get. That's why I'm coming along.'

Dante spluttered on his ale and coughed, 'What?' he looked at her closely, she was serious. 'And just why are you interested in helping me?'

'The Maker told me to join you, surely he would not do so without good reason.'

He raised his eyebrows, 'The Maker **told **you?'

She seemed uncomfortable, embarrassed by what she was saying. 'I know it sounds absolutely insane, but I had a dream... a vision! Look at the people here; the fear, the suffering. This darkness will not stop in Lothering, it will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do; is the Makers work. Let me help you.'

'I'm afraid I'll need more than prayers sister.'

'You have seen some of what I can do. I can fight, I can do more than fight, as I said I was not always a sister. I walked away from that life a long time ago, but if it is the Maker's will; I will take it up again. Gladly. Please let me help.'

He considered it, he thought hard on it. 'Alright... I will not turn away help when it is offered.'

'Thank you for the opportunity.'

'You're quite welcome, but if you don't mind; I really need to get some sleep.'

6

Alistair threw his arms up in exasperation. 'More crazy? I thought we were all full up!'

Neither Alistair nor Morrigan had taken the news of their new comrade particularly well. Dante supposed that wasn't particularly surprising; both of them had troubled pasts with the chantry.

'Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than mother thought.' Morrigan quipped.

It was the morning after the skirmish with Loghain's men and they were in their room inside the tavern. Dante had briefed his companions on the events of the previous night, which they had both slept through. They had been listening quietly up until the point where Dante had told them that Leliana would be joining them.

'This is not up for debate.' Dante said sternly, he had somehow been pushed into the role of group leader, so if he had to do it; he would do it properly. 'And on that topic; we're taking Sten with us as well.'

'What?' Alistair exclaimed. 'The Qunari?'

'Yes. We're going to need experienced warriors, and I don't think we'll find better than Sten.'

'Well... if you're sure that...'

'I am.' He cut Alistair off.

'Very well, we know what we are doing, but do we know how we shall do it?' Morrigan asked.

'I have a plan. Morrigan, Dane and I are going to find the bandits from the chanter's board and claim the reward. While Alistair; you and Leliana are going to the chantry to speak to the revered mother. I need you to convince her to let Sten come with us.'

'What? Why do I have to go to the chantry.'

'Because we're trying to convince a religious leader to release a known murderer into our custody so a Grey Warden needs to be present . Plus we don't know Leliana, we need to keep an eye on her.'

Alistair sighed, 'Fine, fine... I'll babysit the religious nut.'

7

The Lothering town centre was just as busy as it had been the day before. Alistair was waiting to meet Leliana by the bridge into town just as Dante had instructed. The two of them had been given the task to convince the revered mother into releasing the Qunari. He was leaning against a low wall looking at the passing faces while wondered what this new addition to their group would look like. _From my experience of the chantry; _he though_ she'll probably be some middle-aged harpy with an iron rod so far up her backside that..._

'Excuse me. Are you Alistair?'

He turned to meet the voice and as his eyes fell upon her face he had to stop his mouth from dropping open. _By the Maker! She's beautiful! _He swallowed hard, a stunning young woman such as this had been the last thing he'd expected. He suddenly became horribly aware of the clothes he was wearing, the ones he'd borrowed from Flemeth and the way that his trousers were too short and his shirt was tight on his chest yet long on the sleeves.

They stood in silence for an increasingly awkward moment as he tried to think of something witty and charming to say; but he couldn't seem to form anything like coherent sentence in his mind. It seemed to him that a long time had passed since she'd spoken and he started to panic. _Just say something... _He thought to himself,_ ANYTHING! _

'Yes, you're Leliana.' He blurted, 'That is to say; I presume you're Leliana. Because my name is Alistair... which you already know.'

His face went red and Leliana smiled sympathetically. _Smooth... _he thought. 'So... you're a cloistered sister then?' He asked.

'I was.' She smiled and drew closer to him, leaning against the wall and looking up at him from behind a rebellious lock of red hair. 'Dante said that you were also involved in the order. A Templar was it?'

'Oh, I grew up in the chantry but I never actually became a Templar: the Wardens recruited me first.'

'May I ask you something?' She got closer still, now he could smell her, she had the aroma of flowers in springtime and he suddenly found himself intoxicated .'Do you ever miss the chantry life?'

He laughed. But then, seeing her disapproving frown, stopped suddenly, 'No, never.'

She looked over the bridge at the chantry building. 'I think I will miss it, I have found peace here.' She reflected.

'Peace yea. I remember it used to get so quiet sometimes that I'd just start screaming at the top of my voice for no reason; and when the priests came running I'd tell them I was just checking.' Alistair grinned stupidly at her, expecting a laugh.

Leliana just looked at him, 'No... I never did anything like that, I enjoyed the quiet.'

'Ummm... me too.' _Really smooth._

8

Dane ran into the long grass, barking joyfully. He disturbed a group of pheasants that flapped up into the air above Dante and Morrigan. They'd been searching for the bandits for hours but hadn't seen a single sign of them all day. They were strolling along a stone path that ran between two fields of golden corn. The weather had turned out to be quite pleasant and honestly; Dante could think of many worse ways to spend a morning.

'Tell me Morrigan; is Flemeth really what she seems to be?' Dante tugged at the leather shoulder strap of his newly acquired armour. The thick iron plate was a reasonable fit, but it would take some time before it was just right.

Morrigan was walking just behind him, looking disinterested as usual. 'That depends, does it not? What does she seem to be?'

'A powerful maleficar.'

'Ah... so what you really ask is if she truly is the Flemeth of legend and story?' She shrugged, 'I would expect there is some truth in them. Though I truly do not know what is fact and what is exaggeration.'

Dante remembered Aldous telling him the tale of Flemeth; The Witch of the Wilds who made a deal with a demon to take revenge on her tyrannical husband. 'Yes, I have heard such stories in my childhood, but I believe some of those stories to be hundreds of years old; which is surely impossible.'

Morrigan looked at him in the same way that a mother would look at an ignorant child. It was a look that said; you have no idea what's really possible.

Dante raised his eyebrows, _Does such magic really exist. _'But if that's the case then how has she survived for so long?'

Morrigan shrugged again, it was obvious that she was keeping some information to herself, or perhaps it was Flemeth that had kept information from her. 'You have undoubtedly heard the story of Flemeth and the demon. Well prehaps the demon within her changed her somehow, she might well be an abomination.'

'An abomination? But aren't abominations usually insane horrors?'

'How often is "usually?"' She asked rhetorically 'Always? If not always, then when is it not true? There are more things in this world and the next than you or I could hope to comprehend let alone understand. What Flemeth is now is a mystery... I suspect even to her.'

'I see.' Morrigan had given Dante plenty to think about, but needless to say, he would be more wary of Flemeth should they ever meet again.

'Dare I ask of your own mother?' Morrigan asked him, 'Few are abominations of legend, 'tis true, but I find myself curious nevertheless.'

Dante had tried to avoid thinking of his family in recent days, the memories were just too painful. He didn't know exactly how much to tell Morrigan, but decided that less was probably better for the time being. 'My own mother died.' He said simply, 'Quite recently in fact.'

'Ah, then you have my sympathies for what it is worth, which is very little I am certain.' Morrigan said sincerely.

Dante hadn't expected anything like that response. He just couldn't work her out, she always seems so cold yet sometimes she completely surprises him. Morrigan was like no woman he had ever met before, and she intrigued him. 'Thank you Morrigan, I appreciate...'

He sensed it before he saw it. He grabbed Morrigan's arm and threw he to the ground a mere instant before an arrow whizzed through the air. Dante drew his sword and charged before he even had time to think. He couldn't see his attackers but he knew the direction the arrow had come from. He zigzagged, avoiding more arrows that shot towards him. Now he spotted the bandits, five of them that he could see. As he got close one dropped his bow and drew his blade, a second joined him with a war-axe. The swordsman swung first, Dante parried the blow and jabbed with his own weapon, slicing the side of the swordman's neck and opening a deep gash. The bandit with the axe came next, Dante didn't even give him a chance to attack before sticking him in the heart.

An arrow struck him from behind, landing in his left shoulder. He staggered and went to his knee, _only a flesh wound. _He turned to face the archer and found himself facing a drawn bow. The bandit had the drop on him, he braced for the pain. _Looks like I'm about to get shot again. Try to take it in the arm, _He thought.

A creature sprang seemingly out of nowhere. It grabbed the bandit and pinned him to the ground. The man screamed in terror as the giant spider sunk it's fangs into his chest. Dante jumped to his feet ready to fight whatever demon this was that had manifested before him. The spider turned to him, and approached. It was far larger than any giant spider he'd ever seen; and the colours, green and purple, were unlike any species he was aware of.

He looked for the other two bandits that were unaccounted for, he couldn't see them, presumably they had already fallen prey to the spider. He worked out a strategy in his head, attack the legs before hitting the underbelly. He prepared to strike when he was halted in his tracks. The spider convulsed. Its legs folded and shrunk into its abdomen. The entire creature seem to shrivel before his very eyes and before he knew what happened; the spider was gone and Morrigan was stood in its place.

Dante stared at her open mouthed. 'What the **fuck**?'


	7. Chapter 6 Firelight

Chapter 6

Firelight

1

Dante squirmed and readjusted in the saddle, the stiff leather creaking under him. It had been quite a while since he'd been on horseback for any considerable length of time and it was taking some getting used to. As a younger man he'd been quite a proficient rider; taking long hunting trips onto the plains with his father and brother, tracking dear and elk, but he'd gotten out of the habit when he realised that riding the servant girls was a lot more fun.

His back was beginning to ache and he legs were going to numb; but he supposed it beat walking this sort of distance by a long shot. He patted his steed on the side of it's muscular neck, he was a fine horse and had been acquired at quite a bargain too. "The Shadow of Death" his mount had once been called by his former warlord owner, or so the merchant had claimed. That was a bit too garish for Dante's taste, besides, it was a bad idea to get too attached to war horses and so he decided not to name him.

Alistair drew alongside, riding his own chestnut mount and wearing his new, lightweight steel armour. The bandits had fetched quite a high bounty in Lothering and there had been plenty of merchants with wares to sell. 'How much longer before we make camp?' Alistair asked, wincing. It seemed Dante was not the only one who found horseback an uncomfortable mode of transportation.

'I want to keep going until sunset.' Dante replied, eyeing the horizon. 'If any more of Loghain's men catch our trail; I want to be as far away as possible.'

'Fine.' Alistair sighed. He looked back over his shoulder at the rest of their convoy. 'I might... go and see how Leliana's getting on.'

'Very considerate of you.' Dante smirked, watching his friend slow his horse in order to get next to the young Orlesian. Leliana was riding just behind Morrigan but in front of the old shire-horse that pulled the rickety wooden cart which Sten sat in. The decision to purchase a cart had been made partly because they needed to carry a lot of supplies and partly out of fear that Sten would break the back of any horse he mounted, especially now he was wearing heavy armour. But the Qunari had made no objection, nor had he said anything else since his release from custody.

Another horse drew alongside his own, but this time Morrigan was the rider. 'May I speak with you a moment?' She asked, meaning to speak whether he allowed it or not. ''Tis about what you saw during our confrontation with the bandits.'

_Ah yes, I had known that this subject was going to crop up. _'I must admit...' He started, not knowing how he meant to continue. He honestly didn't know how he felt about what he had seen. Morrigan had taken on the form of a creature that had frightened him badly, Maker knew what else she was capable of. He should probably call her a filthy maleficar, accuse her of being a dangerous witch and cast her from his party, if not kill her outright. But he couldn't bring himself to do any of those things. He knew she was dangerous, an unpredictable element in an unstable situation; but he also knew that he was captivated by her. 'I was a little startled by your sudden transformation.' he settled on.

'You have not told any of the others of what happened.'

'What would I tell them? I'm not really sure what happened, and I was there.'

'It was not blood magic.' She said in hushed tones. 'Nor were you in any danger, I had merely...'

'Stop.' He held up his hand, demanding immediate silence. A familiar itch crept up the back of his neck. It was a feeling he recognised from Ostagar.

'Darkspawn!'

2

'Get back Sandal!' Bodahn screamed as the darkspawn closed in on him and his son. 'Don't let them touch you!'

Had he not wanted to leave Orzammar for this exact reason? Hadn't he taken his son and fled the dark places of the world to stop this from happening? After all the years he spent scavenging the deep roads, managing somehow to avoid an encounter with the darkspawn, they should find him here? It looked like the rumours he'd heard about another blight had been true, unless this was just a darkspawn raid that he'd stumbled into the middle of. That would make him the unluckiest dwarf in all of Thedas he supposed.

Bodahn pulled Sandal closer, his eyes desperately searching for any way out. It was a long way back to Lothering, but he was sure they could make it if they could somehow get away. He would leave his cargo behind, sacrifice it all to grubby darkspawn hands, but he knew it wouldn't preoccupy the beasts for long. It was blood they were after, not trinkets and finery. If he had to; he would give his life for his son's. Maybe he could draw their attention long enough for Sandal to escape, slip into the woods and disappear.

He looked into his son's face, not a trace of fear to be found. 'Sandal.' he whispered, 'I want you to run, back to Lothering. Keep going as far and as fast as you can.'

Sandal didn't move, he only looked back at his father with his usual vacant expression. The darkspawn were close now. Hideous, toothy grins painted on their faces. A hurlock moved forward, drool bubbling down its dirty face. There was a savage looking war-axe clutched in one of its claws, it let out an unholy howl and raised it's rusty weapon for the strike.

Bodahn hugged his boy into his chest and closed his eyes, clenching his teeth, ready for the blow that was to come. His heart was beating so heavily he was sure he could hear it. There was a meaty thud, and then... nothing. He tentatively open one eye. The darkspawn before him now stood headless. It rocked on its feet for a moment before collapsing backwards. The other darkspawn were shrieking in rage, Bodahn followed their gazes to a man on horseback, iron armour glinting dully in the late afternoon sun. The rider dismounted; sword in one hand, thick metal shield in the other. One darkspawn attacked; the rider slammed his shield into the charging beast, knocking it sprawling. The stranger followed the darkspawn down, stabbing his sword through its chest.

The sound that Bodahn had mistaken for his own beating heart filled the air again, only this time he recognised it for what it was. _Reinforcements!_

3

Dante wrenched his sword from the darkspawn's corpse, sending a fine spray of blood into the air. A second darkspawn sprinted forward, it swung it's crude sword at him, he ducked under the blow and spun away, slicing with his own weapon as he did so. It opened a huge gash in the darkspawn's gut and dark blood spilled onto the ground. 'Stay down!' Dante yelled at pair of terrified dwarves.

The darkspawn formed up, getting ready to charge together. An arrow soared through the air, hitting one of the fiends in the neck and sending it tumbling into the undergrowth. Alistair came running from the tree-line, preferring to fight on foot rather than on horseback. He struck a darkspawn with the edge of his shield before using his blade to cut a deep wound in the chest of a second. A third came at Dante, he swung his blade in an overhead arch. Fergus's blade hacked into it's shoulder, the darkspawn flopped into the dirt, it's arm almost completely severed. Dante roared at the rest of the beasts, feeling the dark thrill of battle filling him. More arrows rained in from out of sight, it seemed that Leliana was making good use of her bow.

Sten walked onto the battlefield, great-sword held up, ready to draw blood. The remaining darkspawn scurried back from him. He went straight into the thick of them, hacking and slashing with his mighty blade. Limbs were severed, heads were lopped off, one of the spawn was even cut in half, its upper body trying to scramble away from the Qunari before succumbing to its massive wound. The arrows were now joined by bolts of purple magic, every darkspawn the strange energy hit collapsed in a shaking heap.

Dane spend onto the field, leaping through the air and knocking a darkspawn flat onto its back. The monster grabbed Dane's snapping jaws and tried in vein to push the hound away. The darkspawn lost its grip and Dane clamped down, sinking his teeth into the beast's shrieking face.

The few darkspawn that remained fled the field, squealing in fear. Dante couldn't help but admire his group's handiwork; an entire darkspawn raiding party reduced to frightened stragglers in mere moments. _It seems that the situation isn't entirely hopeless after all, _he chuckled to himself.

He suddenly remembered his task, 'Leliana!' he called.

The young redhead came jogging over, 'Yes?' she asked, not looking even slightly perturbed by the bloodshed, _What kind of chantry sister is this?_

'Take Sten and Dane and track the survivors down.' He commanded, pointing his sword in the direction that the darkspawn had fled. She didn't need to be told twice as she set off into the woodland with the Qunari and the war-hound. 'Search the corpses...' he yelled to Alistair, 'take anything we can use.'

The two dwarves approached him, looking slightly shaken but otherwise unharmed. The elder of the two held out a grateful hand. 'Might timely arrival friend.' He said, shaking Dante's hand warmly. 'We're much obliged.'

'You're quite welcome.' Dante smiled back.

'The names Bodahn; merchant, entrepreneur, obtainer of the unusual. And this is Sandal, say hello boy.' Bodahn gestured to the other dwarf.

'Hello.' Sandal spoke simply, in a slow, disjointed lexicon.

_Sounds like he's a few eggs short of a dozen. _Dante thought, perhaps unkindly.

Bodahn had commenced picking up his goods that were strewn across the road. 'The roads have been mighty dangerous in recent days.' He scooped up an armful of fine silk shirts and put them back into their bag. 'Mind if ask what brings and your associates out here? Perhaps we are going same way?' He set the bag down and attempted to right his toppled cart, but could only lift the heavy wooden wagon a few inches off the ground.

Dante leant a helping hand, he had gotten strong since the joining and had little trouble shifting the cart back onto its wheels. 'I doubt you want to risk travelling with a Grey Warden.'

Bodahn's eyes widened. 'A Warden?' He asked in disbelief. 'My... that... does rather explain a lot.' He looked at his son, who was happily plucking pendants from the roadside. 'No offence, but I think there's likely to be more excitement on your road than my boy and I can handle. But allow me to bid you thanks and be on my way.'

'That's probably a wise decision.' Dante grabbed his horse's reins and swung into the saddle. 'Look after yourself Bodahn.' He spurred his horse into a slow trot, 'Goodbye Sandal.'

'Goodbye!' Sandal waved.

4

The temperature dropped harshly as the sun moved behind the horizon, and it wasn't long after that, that Dante found a suitable place to set up camp. They unrolled their hides in a circle and built a small pit for a fire in the centre. All except for Morrigan; who set up a makeshift tent several yards away from the others. Apparently preferring privacy to the warmth of the fire.

Dante sent Alistair and Dane off to find something to eat, it would probably be some hare that was all skin and bone, but something was better than nothing. He and Sten went to find a tree that was dry enough to make decent firewood.

It was the first time Dante had been alone with the Qunari and there was a frosty atmosphere between them. 'So Sten...' Dante began, scrambling blindly for a topic of conversation. 'How are you feeling now you're free?'

Sten turned to Dante, his arms full of sticks. 'I must confess I did not think the priestess would free me. As for how I feel; it does not matter. I made an oath and I will keep it. I will follow you into battle and I will find my atonement.'

'I'm not organising a crusade Sten. What if I don't lead you to your atonement?'

'Then I will find it myself.' He said flatly, walking away.

Dante headed back to the main party camp, worried about what Sten had said. _He's a Qunari, he has no stake in this battle. It would not matter to him if all of Fereldan burned. He's a good warrior, he'll be useful, but I cannot trust him with anything of any real importance._

He dumped his firewood next to the ring of stones in which Leliana was trying to get a fire going. She was working on the flint but failing to get any sparks going. 'This is much harder than I remember it being.'

'Difficult for a simpleton perhaps.' Morrigan strolled up to the fire pit and with a flick of her wrist the pile of dry kindling erupted into flame.

Leliana looked up at her wide-eyed, not sure whether to be grateful or insulted. 'Well...' she finally spoke, '...there's no need to be rude about it.' Dante guessed it was impossible for Leliana to ever sound truly angry with such an adorable Orlesian accent.

Morrigan, it seemed, didn't find it quite so charming. 'If you have quite finished; there is something I need to discuss with the Warden.'

Leliana looked to Dante, seemingly needing his approval. 'It's fine, Leliana. Perhaps you would be so kind as to get the pots from the cart? I'm eager to eat as soon as Alistair returns and we've cooked whatever he's found.'

'Alright.' She said agreeably and made her way over to where they'd left the horses and their cart. Dante watched her walk away, leaving him alone with Morrigan.

'I assume you want to continue our conversation on you being a...' he searched for the word, '...shape-shifter?'

'You would not be wrong to call me such. Though I think you should know that I was not born this way. Tis a skill like any other, one that was taught by to me by Flemeth over many years.'

'Perhaps I should apologise for the way I acted. But you must understand that I was unnerved; I had never seen magic like that before.'

'No?' She sounded surprised, as if she believed that most children grew up in the wilds with a witch as a mother. 'Such magic is not unheard of in the remote corners of world. There are traditions of magic outside circle of magi; despite what the chantry would have you believe.' She spoke with obvious disdain when she mentioned the chantry.

Dante was no mage, but he supposed that if he was; he wouldn't want to be locked up simply because of the circumstance of his birth.

'Some of these traditions are old, indeed...' Morrigan continued, '...passed down as carefully guarded lore from one generation to the next. The zealots of the chantry would uproot all such practitioners if they could, but some still exist. And my mother is one of them.'

'By "practitioner", you mean apostate don't you?' He asked her.

'I know what you think, what you've been told about apostates, but not all apostates use blood magic and other forbidden arts. Maleficarum do, but do not condemn all those who do not fall under the circle's thrall for sake of what might be. In fact, there are those who see the word apostate as meaning freedom.'

Dante frowned, _Do you imprison the majority for the sins of a minority? Would more lives be lost by letting all mages roam free, easy prey for demons? Does an abomination cause more pain to innocent people than the circle causes to innocent mages? _It was a complex issue to be certain, and one he had not fully made him mind up on yet, so he decided to keep his mouth closed and change the subject. 'Can you change into other human forms as well?'

'The form of an animal is different to my own. I may study it; learn to move as it does, think as it does, and in time; become as it is. I gain nothing from watching another human. I already am as they are. I learn nothing. I have heard tales from my mother of some who can adopt the form of other people, but they are unpredictable and dangerous things, and eventually forget their original form.' She saw the concerned look on Dante's face and thought that she had probably told him too much, for a non-mage. 'But in answer to your question; mine is only human form that I possess.'

Dane's happy barks echoed from the trees, signalling the return of their companions. Dante turned to the sound. 'I appreciate you talking to me like this Morrigan.' He said earnestly.

'So have you an opinion on my abilities?' She asked, 'Am I an abomination to be put to the torch?'

'Actually I think your abilities sound quite useful.'

He smiled at her raised eyebrows, 'Oh?' She smiled back in spite of herself, 'You are simply full of surprises aren't you, little man?'

'You have no idea.' He said, walking over to greet Alistair, who had just strolled into camp with an armful of rabbits. 'And I resent the "little man" remark.'

5

Dante stood on the precipice and looked into the darkness. A thousand torches marching beneath him, a thousand more behind them, and thousands more waiting in the blackness. He heard their snarling, their gnashing of teeth and was suddenly aware that there was no victory to be had here. There was no hope.

He would run. He would run home to Highever, let Howe's men kill him if they could. For if he was dead then he wouldn't have to face the approaching horror. He was stood upon an ancient stone bridge, he realised now. But there was no river below him, just an endless flow of hideous darkspawn. There was no sky above him, just cold, unfeeling stone.

He was so cold. Icy fingers pulled at him. The fingers of the dead. Duncan, Cailan, his father, his mother and all those who would die before the end.

Death approached on black wings. The arch-demon swooped low, low enough for him to smell it. It stank of rotting flesh and sick cattle. It landed before him, teeth bared and eyes blazing. It roared, louder in here; with the stone roof echoing the creature's fury. Fear surrounded him like a wave of freezing water. He had to escape. He had to get away whatever the cost.

The bridge crumbled behind him. Huge chunks of rock crashing into the blackness below. He backed up as far as he could, right to the edge. His heels hung over the drop. Nowhere to run.

The arch-demon came toward him. It was so terrible that he thought he might lose his mind from the fear. Nowhere to run. So he jumped. He flung himself backwards off of the bridge. He plummeted toward the darkspawn and they in turn rose to meet him. Closer, closer, closer...

Blood in the earth, blood in the water, blood in the stone.

6

Dante shot blot upright on his bedroll and to his relief; found himself looking into the face of a friend. His heart was pounding in his chest and a bead of cold sweat ran down his back.

'Bad dreams?' Alistair asked, he was crouching beside Dante's bedroll and looked concerned.

Even now the memories of the dream were fading, but he couldn't seem to shake the sense of dread that lingered in his mind. 'It seemed so real.' He shuddered.

'It is real, sort of.' Alistair spoke in an almost apologetic tone. 'Part of being Warden is hearing them. The Archdemon talks to darkspawn, it commands them. You heard it, that's what you felt in the dream. And that's how we know this is really a blight.'

Dante thought of his dream and how the Archdemon had terrified him. The pospect of more of these dreams was a daunting one. 'How often will I have these dreams?' he asked, dreading the answer.

'You eventually learn to block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say that they can even understand the Archdemon a bit; but I sure can't.' Alistair stood up and offered Dante a hand. 'Anyway, its your watch.'

Dante took his hand and clambered up to his feet, feeling stiff, after many years of soft beds; sleeping on the ground was an unwelcome change of pace. 'While we're here: are there any other surprises I should know about?'

Alistair grinned, showing his slightly yellowed but remarkably straight teeth. 'Other than dying young? No, I'm all tapped out for surprises.'

7

Dante slipped some clothes on, picked up a bear hide, his sword and a water skin and, with Alistair, walked from his bedroll and into the centre of camp. There, by the camp-fire, sat Sten.

'I'll take the next watch.' Dante told the Qunari, 'Get some sleep Sten.'

Sten didn't reply, but quietly moved from the log he had been sitting on and over to his own bedroll. Dante watched him go, one dark eyebrow raised, and wondered if he'd ever get used to the Qunari. He lowered himself onto the log and pulled the large fur around his shoulders, shielding him from the chilly night air. He adjusted, trying to get comfortable where he sat; preparing for a long night.

'Right.' Alistair said, followed by a stretch and yawn. 'Wake me in a few hours, I'll take the last watch.'

Dante was about to voice his agreement; when he was interrupted by a sweet voice with a delicate Orlesian accent. Making both men turn to its source. 'Good evening Grey Wardens.' Leliana said, approaching them. She was dressed in an simple yet elegant nightdress that would have seemed more at home in a young noblewoman's bedchamber than in their camp in the middle of the wilderness.

Alistair looked over his shoulder and then pivoted on the spot. 'Oh... good... good evening Leliana.' He stuttered, subtly trying to straighten his hair.

Leliana looked between the two of them, smiling slightly. _She certainly is very attractive. _Dante thought, wondering what she looked like under that robe, in spite of himself.

'Are you to take the next watch?' She asked Dante.

Dante took a moment to regain his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. 'I... am.' He said uncertainly.

'Perhaps you would care for some company?'

'Ummm... there's really no need. You can get some sleep if you'd prefer, I'm alright on my own.'

'I don't mind.' She came over and sat down next to him.

'You could always join me for my watch later if you'd rather?' Alistair interjected.

'No, that's quite alright. I'm fine here.' She said.

An awkward moment passed, Alistair not returning to his bed, yet not saying anything either. 'Okay then.' He said simply as he walked off, looking back several times as he did so.

Dante and Leliana sat in silence for some time, but it didn't feel awkward, they simple sat. Eventually his thoughts turned to their first meeting and what she had said to him. A question formed in his mind, and after that, he couldn't push it away.

'Leliana.' She looked at him, the camp-fire reflected in her cool blue eyes. 'Can I ask you about this vision of yours?'

She sighed, yet didn't look particularly perturbed by his question. 'I knew this would come up, but I don't really know how to explain it.' She took a moment to compose herself. 'I had a dream, in it there was an impenetrable darkness, and a terrible noise. I was stood on the brink. The sun became dark and... I fell.'

'So... it's just a dream. Why say its a vision?'

'I have had dreams, this was different. And then, the next day when I went to chantry gardens, the old rose bush had flowered. Everyone knew that that bush was dead; it was grey and gnarled, the ugliest looking thing you'd ever seen. But that day: it had flowered, a single red rose.'

_Sounds a lot like a coincidence to me. _'And that... made you want to help me?' He asked, trying to conceal his scepticism.

'In the dream, I was unsure; had I fallen or did I jump? I'd do anything to stop the blight, and I truly believe that we can stop it. There are so many beautiful things in the Maker's world, I cant simply sit by while all that is destroyed.'

Dante stroked the long stubble on his chin, 'I suppose I couldn't sit by and do nothing either.' Knowing full well that the man he had been could have easily done nothing.

She looked up at him sweetly, 'That's why you volunteered to join order.'

He just smiled at that. _What would she have thought of me before I joined the Wardens? _He noticed her shiver and frowned. The night had gotten colder and the fire was getting low. 'Sorry.' He said, sliding the fur off of his back and throwing it over her shoulders, annoyed with himself for not offering earlier.

'Thank you.' She said. He could of sworn she had a slight blush on her cheeks, but it might have only been the dying firelight. 'There is enough room for both of us, I think.' She lifted one side of the blanket and slid closer to him, putting the hide around him as well. She was pressed up against him and he could feel her warmth and smell her sweet scent, he felt a familiar stirring and had to control himself. The two of them sat together and finished their watch, never struggling for conversation. The time flew past and Alistair came to relieve them of duty before they knew it.

8

Back in the saddle and moving west. Redcliffe was their destination, Alistair was confident that it was the best place to start; given Alistair's history growing up with Arl Eamon, and Eamon's history of distrusting Loghain.

It was another utterly miserable day; it had started raining just before sunrise and hadn't stopped, even well into the afternoon. Dante's thick iron armour, which he was confident could stop a crossbow bolt at ten paces, was worst than useless against the constant downpour. Icy water ran from his hair, down his neck and straight down his back. Worse still was the fact that the combination of damp and the movement of the horse had begun to chafe his inner thighs, making every moment even more uncomfortable.

Sten sat stiffly among the supplies in the cart, rocking from side to side as the wooden wheels wobbled on the uneven road. Dante hadn't thought it possible for the Qunari to look more glum than his usual glum expression, and yet; here it was. Leliana and Morrigan was riding side by side, hotly engaged in a debate about the existence of the Maker.

Alistair rode alongside Dante, looking as wet and miserable as Dante himself. His head was down and he had a deep frown painted across his face. Dante smiled over at his fellow Warden, Alistair noticed the gaze, yet would not meet his eye. Dante's brows drew together, perhaps Alistair's anguished expression was due to more than simply the downpour. Alistair swallowed and looked back at his other travelling companions, making sure that they were out of earshot. He manoeuvred his horse closer to Dante's, leaning in conspiratorially. Dante could clearly see where this was going. _Can I just ride off now; before I have to hear about another fucking problem I'm going to have to deal with?_

'Can we talk?' Alistair whispered, so quietly that Dante could barely hear him over the horse's footfalls. 'I need to tell you something... something I probably should have told you earlier.'

Dante sighed, rubbing unconsciously at his right temple, trying to pre-empt a headache. 'I'm not going to like this am I?'

'I... I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it much.' He struggled, 'Did I tell you how I know Arl Eamon?'

He thought back; so much had happened recently. 'You said; he raised you, yes?'

'Yes, well, the reason for that was... my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my half brother... I suppose.'

Dante looked at him open mouthed, and had to grip the reigns to stop himself from toppling out of his saddle. _The look on his face said that he had something big to tell me, but this is __**BIG**__._

'What?' He managed, still feeling as shocked as if Alistair had told him that he was the Maker's own son. 'Don't you think you should have told me this before?'

'And when could I have slipped that in precisely? "Oh, and by the way; King Maric had sex with one of his castle's serving girls and conceived a bastard! That's me!"' He waved his hands for extra effect, a stupid grin across his face. 'I'm sorry.' He switched back to miserable, 'I was an... inconvenience, a threat to Cailan's throne, so they kept me out of the way. Everyone who knew either resented or coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I suppose... I didn't want you to know as long as possible.' Now he met Dante's eye. 'Sorry.'

Dante empathised, he too had grown up in the shadow of his father's reputation. 'I understand.'

Alistair smiled weakly, 'I'm glad.' He said earnestly. 'Anyway; eventually the Arl got remarried to an Orlesian girl. It caused a fair bit of trouble too, with the war with Orlais only recently having come to an end, but he loved her. She didn't like the rumours that pegged me as Arl's bastard. They weren't true but of course they existed. The Arl didn't care for gossip, but she did. So off I was packed to nearest monastery. The castle was no home to me by then anyway, she made sure of that.' He scowled, 'She hated me.'

'Did she know the truth about your father?'

Alistair shrugged, 'She may have, but I think it more likely that she feared the rumours were true.'

Dante scratched his head, fingers combing through his sopping wet hair. 'Wait a moment. Doesn't that make you the heir to throne?'

Alistair started as if Dante had slapped him in the face. 'I certainly hope not!' he squeaked. 'At any rate; I am the son of a commoner and a Grey Warden to boot, if there's an heir to be found its Arl Eamon.'

Dante raised a questioning eyebrow.

'Eamon more is far more suited. True, he's not of royal blood but he was Cailan's uncle and very popular.' He turned his attention back to the road before them, hands tight on his reigns with unease. 'Now can we move on? I'll just pretend you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Wardens, alright.'

Dante considered for a moment. 'As you command... my prince.' He said with as sweeping and exaggerated a bow as he could manage from horseback.

'Oh lovely...' Alistair moaned, not quite able to hold back a smile, 'I just know that I'm going to regret this.'

9

It was easy to see how Redcliffe got its name, a huge natural wall of furious red rock ran adjacent to the road they were now travelling on. It towered over them life an enormous crimson wave. _Blood in the earth... _Dante thought, and shuddered silently. On the other side of the of the road was a sudden and steep drop, a hundred feet or more down to a small pebbly beach and then the cold, dark water of Lake Calenhad, which looked more like and ocean than a lake to Dante. He stared out at the huge expanse of murky water and sucked his teeth nervously, he had always had a fear of deep water; _because anything could be lurking below you and you'd have no way of knowing, _he thought and felt his flesh creep.

'Not far now.' Alistair shouted from behind him, riding next to Leliana as he usually did. 'Redcliffe is just over the next bridge.'

The travelling had been good for the past few days and they had seen no sign of any darkspawn since leaving the far south. He and Leliana had grown to become friends, often taking watch together and talking into the early hours. Well, she talked and he listened mostly, but that was the way he preferred it. Alistair had also proven himself to be a good travelling companion, and their daily sparring sessions had begun to forge a strong bond between the two of them. Alistair was always good for a laugh too, and Maker knew you could use as many laughs as you could get when the odds were this highly stacked against you. Sten however was another matter entirely. A dozen times Dante had attempted to broker conversation with the giant, and every time he had been blocked by a sharp, one word answer or some standoffish comment. So he had given up: for now at least. As for Morrigan, well, he had decided to keep clear of the witch when he could. He knew he couldn't trust her, he knew that she had much that she had not told him, and he knew that she intrigued him. That was a bad combination and likely to cause distractions that could get people killed. Thus he avoided her, but she seemed to prefer solitude anyway, always making her camp a fair distance from the rest of the group.

At last the bridge came into view. A ram-shackled and crumbling thing by the look of it. Spanning a wide yet shallow river that cascaded down the red rocks and suddenly disappeared over a precipice and out of sight. A single figure stood on the bridge, a bow hung his back. _A scout or watchman of some kind. Not unexpected, especially with so many enemies around these days._

As the company drew closer the scout came into more detail. He was a tall, lanky, sickly looking man. No, not even a man, a boy. A pale boy with messy red hair and dark rings around his eyes. Dante began to feel uneasy. _You don't appoint one single man to keep watch on the only road into town, not with darkspawn about. And you certainly don't choose a lad who looks too weak to draw the string on that bow he's carrying._

He gave Alistair a worried glance and could tell that his fellow Warden felt the same way. Dante pulled his horse up next to the sickly youth and looked down at him. The boy took a step back, his eyes wide and frightened. It suddenly occurred to Dante what he must look like; dirty faced, bearded and wearing rugged armour that had more scratches and dents than an eighty year old whore. He guessed he probably looked more like a bandit than a legendary hero of old.

'You've reached the village of Redcliffe.' The boy asserted, pale lip quivering slightly, trying to hide the fear in his voice. 'State your business.'

_Facing down a group of intimidating strangers alone? The boy has more bones than I would've guessed._

Dante gave his most charming smile, trying to put the lad a bit more at ease. 'My name is Dante, of the Grey Wardens.'

The lad gawked, showing a set of uneven teeth. 'Grey Wardens?' He just about gasped. 'Have you come to help us?'

Dante's thick brows drew together. It seemed that he was right, something was amiss in Redcliffe. 'What do you mean? Is there some kind of problem?'

'You... you don't know? Has nobody out there heard?'

The hair on his arms prickled. He almost didn't dare ask the question. 'Heard what?'

The lad seemed to go even paler, a feat that Dante would've thought impossible, until he saw it right before his eyes. He licked his lips. 'The village has come under assault. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack until dawn. Everyone's been fighting and dying. We have no army to defend us, no Arl, and there's no king to send help. So many have died, and those left are terrified that they're next.'

_Monsters? **Monsters? **_Dante stared down the road, eyes narrowed. The road forked after a short distance. The left route heading uphill, the right sloping down. From what he'd heard about Redcliffe; the castle sat on a high peak while Redcliffe village was right on the water's edge. There was no sign of anything amiss, certainly no sign of any monsters.

Alistair kicked his horse forward suddenly. Startling the boy into taking another step back. 'No Arl?' he yelped, 'What's happened to Arl Eamon?'

The boy looked between Dante and Alistair, his hand twitched as if to reach for his bow, but he quickly thought better of it. 'The Arl has been deathly ill... nobody even knows if he's still alive. We haven't heard from the castle in days.'

_Monsters in command of one of the greatest fortresses in all Fereldan, and holding an Arl hostage on top of that? That's assuming that the Arl is still alive at all. What the fuck has happened to the world?_

'We shouldn't stay here.' The boy gazed worriedly along the road that forked off and headed up hill, presumably toward the castle. 'I should take you to see Bann Teagan. Ever since the attacks began he's all that's been holding us together, and I think he'll want to see you.'

The pale youth hustled off down the road, frequently looking over his shoulder to check if the strangers were following him. Dante and Alistair looked at each other and shrugged, kicking their horses into a trot. The shire horse pulled the rickety cart into motion, Dante could clearly hear its creaky wheels bumping down the road.

Alistair brought his mount alongside the boy, who was marching purposefully done the hill. 'Did you say Bann Teagan?' He asked, 'Arl Eamon's brother? Here in Redcliffe?'

'Yes. The village isn't far, come on.'

Now Dante saw the signs. The occasional dark stain on the roadside, the odd personal effect left uncared for. A child's doll lying in a puddle. A strange smell wafted through the air, burning wood accompanied by the aroma of pulled pork and crackling. Smells that Dante usually found quite pleasurable, but he knew where those smells were coming from and it made his stomach churn. Something was definitely wrong in Redcliffe.


End file.
